I can't keep myself away from Sam, I just plain suck at it. Every indicator points to the relationship not working.

There's no passion in it. Rarely sex anymore, and I'm not even interested in changing that. But oh, how nice the company is sometimes.

Last weekend I went over there for Easter — and this is part of the problem: We never fully severed when we split. We've lived apart for 18 months, but we still spend every holiday and birthday together. Anyway, I went over there for Easter, not wanting to go, but feeling obliged to take part in a holiday I don't celebrate, and despite my best efforts to maintain a cold distance, I had a really nice time with him.

Sure, there was the same quiet I always complain about. That lonesome sound of silence, but it was familiar and comfortable. It was nice not to be alone in my cold apartment. Such a simple pleasure, laughing at a movie, curled warm on the couch with my kids asleep in the next room.

My friend compared getting through this period of separation to kicking heroin. I shot back some snide remark about "once a junkie, always a junkie," but deep inside of here, I know she's right.

There's no getting out of something if you keep going back to it.