Oh masochistic me...
Because I like to put on my waders and muck around in nostalgia this time of year, I recently pulled my box of notebooks out of storage (I have journals going back to high school) and started re-reading them.
Last night, I found an entry that made me realize I should always, always (always!) trust my instincts.
When you know someone well and for a long time, you sometimes forget how you met them. And I had forgotten how I met him, but had written about it shortly after our first meeting, long before the madness began. It wasn't specifically about him (not in the junior high-gushing over the cute guy way), but at the very end I wrote about a conversation we had, adding a footnote summation: "He's the kind of guy who would gleefully break my heart if I let him."
And? And I let him.