Many splendored thing?

What is love? Always a good question as we all seem to constantly fall into it, occassionally fall out of it, always confuse it with lust and generally give outselves amazing angst regarding it. It drives our being, consumes our lives, drives us crazy with its demands, its uncertainties and always we willingly embrace it. Obsession or addiction? We cannot live with it but we would not live without it.

I have been in love three times. Not bad for five decades. I am still madly, passionately in love with my first love, and I am so glad to be able to say that. He gives me joy, passion, friendship, understanding, tolerance, but most of all, love. To be loved, and know that, must be one of the greatest joys. I know it is for me.
Early there was another. A friend who I began to wonder if there was more in it than just friendship. In the quest to find out I did a lot of hurt, though not to myself. I have always managed to come out unscathed in my searches, though it might have hurt a bit at the time. Scarred, yes, one does not do that sort of thing without some reminders. Fortunately I chose correctly, was able to walk away from that without any known effects.
But history can repeat. Fortunately for me circumstance made things easy, though I can only say that now. Was it because it was safe, that I allowed it to happen? Though allowed is such a strange word. Just how much choice to we have in how we feel about others? When we start to care, just how can we stop? For we only realise this when it is too late.
But care I do and will continue to do so. For as long as I am allowed. After that?