happy anniversary. *pout*

please let me assure everyone that I have no intentions of EVER being with adam again nor do I have any intentions of crushing talcotts wee heart for fresh juice to go with me breakfast.

As a friend once told me about the feelings we may have towards more that one person:

"It's part of the�richness of life and--depending on how we handle the�people and emotions--a�blessing."

are you speaking from personal experience? *curious*

how can it be a blessing to love someone who is like adam? cause point out to me a way this can be a positive thing and I'll try to make it work, but I love him AND talcott and adam wont talk to me (not that it makes me sad, I'm just at odds with myself because he was such a big part of my life and my best friend for years. now its like he's completely gone. because he's different than before).

and talcott is so awesome that I feel like I'm doing him a disservice in this.

Once upon a time, way back in my impressionable teen years, I met a man at a summer school program.� He was a counselor, which meant nothing could have happened.� Believing him to be "safe," I fell very hard for him.� It was my first adult infatuation and was long-lasting.� He and I became friends and stayed in contact for many years.� He was aware of my eating disorder, past sexual abuse, depression, bad family situation, you name it.� He never judged me, simply encouraged me through all the dark spots in my life.

Fast forward to the summer of 2001.� I caught up with this person in NYC.� I hadn't seen him in over 10 years.� He met my husband and another friend at dinner.� Being a married woman, I was over him, right?� I mean, it wasn't like we ever HAD anything or COULD have had anything.

Enter stage right: The Emotions.� I could NOT believe that some of the feelings still remained.� I was downright pissed at myself because, again, I'm a married woman.� I take my commitment seriously and felt I was being unfair and (possibly??) untruthful with my husband.� How could I possibly love two completely different men?

I had some inner battles: did my need to explain myself to my husband outweigh my husband's need to not know, since it really didn't affect the relationship?� Did my need to 'fess up to this other man outweigh his need to know know, since he, too, was in a committed relationship?

I finally explained to my friend what was going on.� His response was incredible.� He had an inkling of my past infatuation.� (I'll add here that he handled it like an adult, which was EXACTLY what I needed at that time,�still reeling from the sexual abuse flash backs I was dealing with.)� He told me that some of his most rewarding relationships overlapped.

The relief I felt after his response...I realized I was normal.� I was NOT cheating on anyone, up to and including myself and my husband.� And, amazingly, the tension I felt towards my friend was released along with many of the lingering infatuous emotions.

What a life lesson.

I don't know how loving Adam can be a blessing.� Okay, let me revamp that thought: how about a mixed blessing?� You learned some important things about yourself, right?� (Maybe?)�

I think a lot of the "this can't be right" feelings come from believing we can't or shouldn't love more than one person at a time.� (Not like loving your friends and family - relationship-wise.)� Accepting that one CAN love two men at the same time might help you balance things out.

There are other men in my life from years past that I love, still. I sure as hell wouldn't get into any kind of relationship with them, though!!

I was actually discussing some of this kind of stuff with my cousin when I was in CA for a bat mitzvah.� He's been taking a lot of classes in psychology and philosophy.� There is a belief system (or theory) that a relationship requires a support system to exist.� When a person dies, the relationship does, too, because there is no one to support the other side.� Our reaction to the abrupt end of the relationship is as harsh as the reaction to the loss of the person.� Where death is concerned, closure is difficult to obtain.

In losing Adam, you lost a part of yourself: the part that was supporting the relationship.� The relationship is no longer there, so there are parts of you that need to heal.� (Not that much of this theory is going to help you here and now, but it does give a starting point.� Maybe.)

since I haven't commented on anything in awhile, and you *know* i need to comment periodically:

i refer you to the immortal wisdom of CSNY "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with"