My Jimmeny is a John

Warning: If your name if Kelly, you have a younger, stable brother who makes a fabulous husband and you can’t bear to read any sordid details about his rocking hips and furry chest? Run. Run far away and hide yourself in a closet. Otherwise, if you read this? You might just go into labor a couple of weeks early.
When I was in high school my best friend was a dude. Okay, yes he was my friend and I did fancy him, but for some reason I just couldn’t make myself move beyond the friendship part. I was always so worried that if we became anything more than friends, we would lose each other and that our great companionship would end. Yes, I loved to bask in his attention; he wanted me and I knew it. But I still held our friendship true to my heart. As fate would have it, I eventually ended up trouncing the relationship beyond repair. During the summer of our sophomore year in college, I ended up dating and falling wildly in love with one of his friends. I still cared deeply for him, but I just couldn’t take our union any further than it was.
Now, eighteen years later, he is a successful businessman, has a fabulously stable wife and two daughters. I know all the details because I count his older sister among my closest of friends. He and I have never been able to be friends since that one summer. We are cordial when we occasionally meet, but that ease and comfort are forever gone. So why am I still lamenting this after all this time? Because the fucker haunts me in my dreams.
For a number of years I was plagued by dreams where we would get together and be blissfully content. For the past couple of years I have been happily free of this burden. But I have recently stopped taking the Lunesta that the doctor prescribed for me after my father died, and all of my dreams have returned. It’s so wonderful to have my dreams back because I am one of those freaks that relies on my dreams for guidance and reflection. But now he is back in fierce form. The other night we culminated our relationship. Oh yeah. There is absolutely NO sex in my life. (I live with my mother and my traumatized kids sleep in my bed, where am I going to fit an extra body into the mix? Besides, I am so dysfucntional right now that I am not planning to even go there for a long time.) So the other night? Yes. We had at it. Alot. And? He left his lovely wife for me. He told me he had been missing me all of these years and that his wife was strong and would be just fine without him. He left his perfect daughters for me and my wacky offsrping. In my dream he had the most fabulous hips and the best lips -ever.
Needless to say I awoke in a bit of a panic. My thoughts ran something like this: Yes, it was so fabulous to actually be kissed and loved.
Followed by a: Shit, why did he leave his wife?
Then: Man, if I knew what I was missing all those years ago? I would have jumped him. Repeatedly.
And finally: But shit? Why do I have to endure this sort of torture after all of this time.
I so don’t get it. I couldn’t have a relationship right now if I wanted to. He is fine and actually ended up with a far better life than I could have ever offered him. Although my path has been scary ass hard and traumatizing, I wouldn’t trade a minnute of it if I meant I didn’t get a chance to know my children. It’s all good. So what the hell? Why is he back? I haven’t seen him in person for at least three years. I chat with his sister all the time and more often than not I forget they are siblings. Is he going to keep coming back? I felt enough guilt when we were in high school and college. Do I have to ruin it all over again in my dreams?