All you need is love... (and possibly a lot of 'splainin' to do, Lucy)

I am enraptured. Yet I'm feeling a bit selfish - and quite guilty for it, I admit.

Enraptured because I have met and begun to fall for someone incredibly sweet, intelligent, talented, loving, fun and compassionate. A man whose entire being is everything I could ever have hoped to find and share myself with. As if his personality isn't enough, there is also the added bonus that we share almost everything in common: We are both INFP personalities, have the same tastes in everything from music to movies (even the obscure), everything from the trivial to the substantial. He is incredible. I would never in a thousand years have expected to meet someone with every single quality he has. And I am crazy about him. Which makes me feel so incredibly selfish.

Why selfish? Precisely because of all the qualities he has. He could do so much better than me, a woman eight years his senior, divorced (and we won't even go into the endless slew of idiocy in the rest of my relationships) with five children and a wretched, tortured past. My childhood, regardless of my choice in the matter, is in itself completely paradoxical to his own well-bred and cultured upbringing . Add to that the foolish and irresponsible choices I have had a tendency to make in my adult life, and the idea I could possibly end up with someone like him becomes entirely preposterous.

And I feel guilty. What could I possibly bring to his life? Do I have achievable goals? Absolutely! There is so much I aspire to do, so many plans for my future, and I have no doubt whatsoever that I will accomplish them all and improve on my past and my own mistakes by leaps and bounds. I refuse to be complacent or to allow myself or my children to stagnate, though it might be easy enough to continue on in that same pattern - and most often statistically does.

Don't get me wrong: I'm certainly not wallowing. I simply feel the need to constantly provide explanations for myself. I suppose, in a way, that only makes it worse. It's the idea of meeting his friends and family that is the most distressing.

If my son, my baby, came home to me and said he'd met this great person, someone he wanted to build a life with, i would be happy for him, but a little afraid of the possibility of his heart being broken. But if he then went on to tell me that she was older and divorced with children I would probably (and most likely not secretly) be praying for the relationship to end - and soon, regardless of her nature or aspirations. I would see a woman looking for a "meal ticket". Sounds a tad harsh? I'll bet if you thought of it a bit more close to home, putting yourself in those shoes, you'd likely feel quite the same.

I've talked to him about this. I even told him that he's insane for wanting me in his life. As much as I don't want to hold him back, as fiercely independent as I am, as clearly as I can see a perfect and beautiful future with this man, how can we possibly know if my mere existence in his life would be detrimental to what he could accomplish otherwise? He insists and is convinced I am "the one". And I am terrified.

I haven't yet met his friends (most of them live away from here, and we've mainly just spent all of our time together), but I met his brother today, the first of his family I've had even incidental contact with. He was very nice, and very much like Michael, but understandably apprehensive about my relationship with his younger brother. And once again, I found myself trying to explain myself away, feeling that irrepressible need to somehow prove my own worthiness to be involved with such a beautiful man.

Honestly, I don't know what I should do. I know that I want so badly to be with Michael for as long as fate allows. I know that there is little chance I would ever find anyone else who could measure to half what he is. I also know, however, that he could easily meet someone with twice the good qualities in me, and without all the excess baggage. And oh, how selfish that makes me.

But I am crazy about him.