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With All My Love Put Onto You

April 20, 2017


Jeff,


I’ve been up all night working. Thinking again. Always with the thinking. Gets me in so much trouble.


So I’m not quite sure what to make of my romantic life lately. If romantic is the correct term, which it is not, but I can’t think of a better one… It seems I’ve taken up with two married men, so far internet only. One of them I had an interesting conversation with. I had to read and reread what I had written. I was really surprised at what came out of me. Frankly, I didn’t know I felt the way I did.


Apparently, I deliberately choose married men because they are married. Apparently, I don’t want what I’ve always thought I wanted and that is someone of my very own. I don’t exactly know why I don’t want that. Am I too old and set in my ways and don’t want to share all of my life with someone? Am I afraid? If afraid, what of? Is it just inconvenient to think of marrying at my age? Am I conditioned to think it will never happen for me, so I can’t even wrap my mind around the notion? I’m sure there are more reasons for why I am this way, if I thought about it more. Which is totally depressing to think about.


What’s even more sad is taking up with married men has become a pattern for me at this point. It’s probably always been a pattern actually. I have had married lovers as far back as age 21. All my life I’ve valued the sanctity of marriage, or that’s what I’ve believed. Marriage is when two people make vows to God they will keep to one another only, through good and bad, until death. That is not something an outsider should be messing with. Not good stuff. Even if the marriage is not functioning, it’s still a marriage.


So, as usual, there is really no point to me sharing this information with you except you are my best friend, who never criticizes me, never judges me and always listens quietly and patiently to everything I say.


I wonder if I fell in love with you, or I picked you to put all my love onto. Probably the latter. Because that means I am in control of who, how, when and to what degree I love. And if that doesn’t warrant a trip back to therapy, I don’t know what does.


Regardless, I’m going to keep telling you I love you, because if I can’t tell you that I will just die inside. It’s too much to hold inside, I have so much love in there wanting to come out. It’s even turning into sex, all that love. I’m a bit beside myself over all this actually. I don’t understand it. I’m confused. It feels good but it feels off. I don’t know what to feel or how to frame all of this in my mind.


I suppose I’ll figure it out over time.


With All My Love Put Onto You,


Coco

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