You asked me this Friday night while we made spicy butternut apple soup whether you were right to love A, and to have told him so. It's the kind of question I love to answer because I am conceited and think I know everything, but you asking me that made me remember I am a liar and a thief who doesn't know anything and I talked cryptically and made jokes to get out of it...
Walking home on Saturday night I realized why. When I thought I loved W and was going to upend my life (worth it) but wasn't sure if it was just a passing infatuation (it wasn't and isn't), you were the only one to tell me you thought it was real. I can't tell you how important that was to me. I think about it all the time, mostly because it let me love W and that has proved lasting, but also because it made me trust you, emotionally, and to realize in so many ways our souls are aligned and that you and I understand each other in ways I've never had with anyone before. I want to give you a similar gift, but I guess I still only feel confident telling you how much I love you, not telling you how much you love A.
Maybe you were lying to me that fall day 3 years ago, or just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear (also true), but I think even to do that, I'd need to know how you really feel about A.
My instinct is you love him, not forever, but for now. And since our life here still feels very now, and not forever, I think you were right to say it.
But I'll ask you again in three years.
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