More questions, but some answers, at least

I asked a series of more or less rhetorical questions in one of my posts in the aftermath of last weekend's events, and more have come to mind. Why was I so smitten by him? He's not beautiful, apart, maybe, from his gorgeous (one of his favourite words, to judge by the number of times he used it) pale blue eyes, not even 'pretty' in the way young boys sometimes can be. I suppose what he is, really, is 'cute', in the way a doting grandmother, rather than a boylover like me, might use the word. Thinking about it over the past few days, I think the answer to this question revolves around two things - the fact that he took to me, even though this was, effectively, the first time I'd ever 'met' him in any meaningful way, and his very, very obvious intelligence. His father said, just before it all exploded, 'J really likes you', something I knew already. Which was why I said what I said, the statement that was the immediate catalyst for the disasters that ensued. That I never, never wanted to see J again, because that was the only way I could ever guarantee, with 100% certainty, that he would be safe from me. At which point his father went berserk.
All of which has given rise to another answer. That my long term strategy for dealing with the person I know myself to be is the right one. I simply must stay away from boys, never, ever get involved with a boy in any way at all. I'm still convinced that I had to say what I said, though, because the absolute, overriding priority is that such a perfect little boy, or, indeed, any boy at all, should never be exposed to even the slightest risk of being hurt by me.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B