Going through all our old e-mails is kind of torture. I'd estimate I have about half of them left to do (There's a total of 247 threads with him, some of which are 100 messages, and some of which are only a dozen, and I have 119 threads left). January of 09 is when I was the most in love with him and I'm almost dreading it; I'm up to the end of November, 08. We are getting in deeper, but for the most part, I'm sharing more than he is. But it isn't a huge mismatch. He knows specifics about my dreams--I know general contours of his. But I know that he has almost super-powers in his dreams, but feels horrible in them because he doesn't have the willpower to control the superpowers--he can stop something from falling for a while, but the energy wears him out and things eventually fall. The perfectionism he gave me a hard time for was evident in his dreams.
It's funny--"John" didn't like "Steven" and "Steven" didn't like "John." I was in love with John and he wasn't ready for a relationship; maybe once he became the man he aspired to be. Steven was in love with me (he said at one point), but broke up with me because he didn't want a youngish relationship (if I'm remembering and understanding correctly). (I think I would have fallen in love with Steven, with a little more time. John and I dated on and off for ages.)
Both men cared about me a great deal, at least it seemed at various moments, and both diagnosed my bifurcation with similar love and care and wanted me to accept both sides of myself. Both men thought that I could do that with them, and I think if either one had turned into a long-term relationship, I would have.
Each guy (the only 2 that I've dated who have my blog URL) thought the other wasn't serious about me and thought I deserved a true love who would have loved me the way he would have if it had been the right time. Steven was 15 years older than John, and Steven sent me a lovely note after I told him that John died.
As Ira Gershwin wrote: "Never a new love will be the same." But maybe it will be possible, to get a different love.
John didn't actually want me for himself as much as he wanted to see me thrive. Last night, I had to get sheets out of the laundry room, and I actually found myself, as I cried in my nightgown, saying "Constance, John would want you to get your bed made and sleep comfortably." And it worked. I did what I knew I had to do. John wouldn't want my back to hurt from sleeping on the floor because I was too beat from mourning him.
And ultimately, I think John would be touched by how much I miss him. And maybe, if there's any form of afterlife that allows beings to peak at earth, he would look through our relationship and see my good sides over my bad and wish me loving kindness and peace.
But he'd want me to thrive. He's want me to thrive more for him having touched me. It would devastate him if he thought he'd done me harm. And so I have to make sure that I keep perspective and don't drown. Not today, or this week or even this month. But this year. I have to work on taking his lessons, and be stronger for having loved him. And know: never a new love will be the same. But a new love can be different.
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