April 2nd, 2001


(no subject)

There's a Spider Robinson book - one of his Sally's House books - in which the main character falls in love with and marries one of the workers in the House. (Note the capitalization. It would be considered a house of ill repute, except that it actually has a fantastic reputation. Wonderful place. Only whorehouse in the world where you might go there and forget to get laid :) ) Anyway. She doesn't want to give up her job (I *said* it was a cool place) and she's asking him whether he minds at all. And he thinks about it, and eventually realizes that, for all the potential reasons someone *could* mind - he doesn't. Open relationship.

A while back I thought about whether I'd mind, and I decided that I didn't. Actually, I figured out that I didn't.

This was before the person I loved more than anything spent a week assuring me that she *wasn't* running off to be with someone else, and that she *wouldn't* break up with me, and that I had absolutely nothing to fear and that she loved me, then broke up with me right after that.

I think now I'd mind . . . maybe I'm just insecure, but . . . well . . . *shrug* I'm insecure. That's all there is to it, really. I don't want to risk that happening again . . . sigh. The process of recognizing and isolating damage in the mind continues, clearly.

On another note, if I ever have a reasonable amount of money, I think I'll turn this into a paid LJ account. It's certainly cool enough.

And I think I've got a cold or something.
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