It...uhh.. has me crying right now. And has me thinking about all the questions it presents. But getting upset and crying into my Folgers coffee isn't gonna solve my problems or get my homework done.

Here's the article (the link above is to the actual sorce page so I don't get sued for plagerizing or some such nonsense):

What if you think it's right yet suspect it might be wrong?

Question: My first love was very intense, and ended in a spectacular disaster, the kind you read about. Years later, I am in love once again with a fabulous girl. It's a cooler, calmer, more rational love. My mind says this girl is definitely marriage material, i.e., she'll be a great wife, mother, etc. But I am not intensely passionate with her like I was with my first love. I have other interests and I can be away from her and not stress out over it. I'm not sure if this is healthy, or if I'm trying to delude myself into having feelings that aren't there.

Question: I'm in my early 20s and have been with my boyfriend for six years. We get along great and he is practically perfect. But I find myself thinking about other men frequently. This has been going on for about four years. I want to know if it is normal to constantly want to be with other people, or is it that I really want to be single and date? I never really got a chance to date because I've been with my boyfriend since high school. But I don't know if it would be stupid to throw away a perfectly good thing just to date other people.

Answer: Quiz time! The universal definition of a perfectly good thing/great spouse, etc., is someone who:

-------(a) Is sexy, stunning, funny, smart, rich, stable, ego-free and madly in love with you.

-------(b) Is ambitious but not too, attractive but not too, wealthy but not too, compatible, good for the gene pool, and amusing, but never tasteless.

-------(c) Loves football, spends too much on your birthday, takes over when you're tired and thinks flatulence is funny.

Hint: The answer is (d) all of the above. Except when it's (e) none of the above.

That's what you get when you try to rationalize something as profoundly irrational as happiness.

I spend my days wading in popular loveisms - relationships are hard work, they're supposed to be fun, timing is everything, love yourself first, love is never selfish, if you love something set it free, absence makes the heart grow fonder, out of sight out of mind, sow your wild oats, save yourself for marriage, it's worth it to wait for "the one," there's no such thing as "the one," blahblahblah - and yet most of the ailing relationships I see, both live and in writing, could be fixed by a concept we all grasp at birth:

Unhappiness is bad.

But along the way, a lot of us seem to lose the connection between wailing because our pants are squishy and breaking up with perfectly wonderful people who simply aren't right for us. Discomfort is discomfort, no? Maybe if we could scream our way out of unsatisfying relationships we'd be much better at ending them, but chances are our overthinking adult counterparts would just confront us on our scream-management issues and insist we get counseling and keep the wedding on track.

None of us can ever be certain what's coming, but we can know what is. That means deciding whether you prefer passion or contentment. Or whether you want to hold out for both, at the risk of getting neither. If you're confused, that means deciding whether you want to remain trapped and miserable for no earthly reason whatsoever, or just rip all your hair out by the roots. (Hint: the latter. It's over faster.)

Ask are you happy together, do you love each other as-is, could someone else make you happier, do you know yourself well enough to know this, are you getting any of these opinions from watching too many movies, do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

And since we're all a pretty good bet to think we're right, at least until life intercedes to remind us that we're hoo-boy wrong wrong wrong, we should also ask: Are you in a position to make good decisions for yourself, or are you too young, too insecure, too high, or so badly in need of therapy that you think you'll never need therapy because you don't need therapy?

But then, I suppose these questions aren't denial-proof, either.

Maybe this one is. Are you comfortable with the possibility that you're out there making mistakes? Big ones? Small ones? It's pretty tough to fix, or, better, avoid what you flatly refuse to see.

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(This is not smut, or porn and it is not always explict so don't be expecting anything)