I didn't stop seeing that man even after I promised that I would. After a few weeks, I went and found him again. From mid-August to early October, we spoke every day and saw each other almost as much. I am ashamed to admit it. I allowed myself to fall in love with him. I knew that I would. It was lovely. A love that I've nurtured for over a decade now became overshadowed by somebody who is very, very special. He is magical. He is beautiful. I hated myself for falling for him, but I did because he made it so splendidly easy. And I flew to Canada anyway, despite being lost and confused and knowing that I would have to make a decision. I spent ten days with a man that I have loved for a decade. A day for every year. When I left Ireland, I thought that I had made my mind up. Who falls in love with somebody else while they're so totally smitten with the love of their life already? Here's a hint: I do. I thought that I had the guts to leave him. He's 2,000 miles away, and totally inaccessible from October to April. I can't just hop on a plane to go see him. We are stranded thousands of miles apart from each other now. We are not in a relationship, but I don't feel like a single woman. I feel guilty for looking at other men, and it tore me up to fall in love with somebody else who was and is so perfect for me. But I got to Canada and immediately remembered a love that had started to become hidden within me. It burst and it bloomed and I couldn't get enough of everything about him. This distance is so difficult. I didn't know how to leave, but I did. The new man that I had accidentally fallen for - I told him. I told him everything. "You love me, but you love him too. Maybe more than you love me." I nodded. I will never forget him answering the door. I've never seen him look so sad and so scared and afraid. I had brought him a coffee as some sort of final token of love. We sat on his couch and he told me that it was okay. He told me that I can't help how I feel. He asked me over and over if I was certain and I said that I was. He's the only person in my life who has actively researched my chronic illness because he wanted to prepare for a future together. He said it didn't matter. I called myself damaged goods and he had none of it. He wanted all of me. I had had very little sleep the night before and fell asleep on his couch, with him cuddled in beside me. I woke up, and we kissed and I slept with him one last time, which I shouldn't have done, but I did because I am weak and I love him. And then I left him and I can't stop listening to School Night by Ani Difranco and wondering what I have done. Two thousand miles away. He would have no sympathy for my grieving.