Dear Young & Strapping,

yes, I actually slept with my phone next to my bed, under a book where Husband didn't notice it. The way I have been for the past 13 days, since I get my texts and missed calls from you in the middle of the night when I'm sleeping, when you're drunk. I used to wake up to ex bf's texts and calls too. I know that you are back and I'm happy about that. I wish I'd gotten to see you mostly so I can fucking forget about you. Because in my head, you are larger than life. I see something about soldiers and I begin to think about you. I saw this and I became aroused. I mean, really, it shows how odd the obsession is. And you didn't even go to Iraq. Oh young soldier. You really helped me not be obsessed with my husband's sex addiction. Because now I'm obsessed with you. I think that I'm obsessed with being obsessed. It's either money, or pregnancy, or whatever. I hate it. I wish I weren't so attached to outcome and to my wants. I know that I'll never see you or hear from you again. Which again, is probably the best thing. But I fucked myself up in the head with you. I'm sorry for my long confusing texts that answered your, "we ate awesome food and did karaoke, got so hammered, i don't even know how we got home last night," and I answered you with wordy prose about compulsions, neil diamond and tequila on the rocks (in reference to neil diamond's 'Love on the Rocks') with lots of lime. In my courtship ritual with Husband, we sent long and beautiful emails back and forth to each other. We wrote silly stories that were long, winding, ridiculous and it created a language of our own. You are not Husband. But somehow, I acted as if you were. Holding up my end of the courtship ritual, as well as yours. Oh Sweet boy, you're smart, I can tell that for sure. But you're not what I want or what I need. I have become obsessed with a fantasy. I miss you. I wish you didn't stop texting me after Friday night. But now I need to return to my life. Find some balance with husband. Everything is so weird.