Echoes.

I think Nick and I are both experiencing our share of cold feet lately.
It’s one thing to love someone and want to spend your life with them.
Quite another to live 29 years as a single person and get married at the height of your self-absorbed wisdom and knowledge that it’s not necessary to marry someone to spend your life with them.
And what is the big fear with that word?
I’m not sure, but I find myself hearing constantly, every day, that it’s not worth it, and that alone is enough to make me want to clench my eyes closed, jump through the hoop of fire, and find myself on the other side WITHOUT having to think about it first.

I know that he’s a good man, that our relationship is strong, and that I want a future with him.

But the logistics?
How?  When?  Why?
How do we get married and live together after not even being able to date in the same city for over 2 years?
Even when we were in the same city, spending time together on a longer term basis was hard for both of us.
We needed space, needed alone time, and well, when you’re sharing a bed, where do you find it?

I think that it says something that we acknowledge that this is huge and are willing to still do this, instead of backing away slowly as to avoid a fatal strike.
But at the same time, there is a small  mountain of fear in the OCD side of my brain that goes through ridiculous amounts of Single Person Worries in the same tone that someone facing a firing squad might use.

WHAT IF he leaves wet towels on the floor?!!?
WHAT IF he doesn’t clean up after he shaves?!
WHAT IF he leaves his computer cords stashed around every room?!!!!
WHAT IF he DOESN’T RINSE OFF the dishes in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher?!!?

And the simple answer is, I’ll live.  He’ll live.  (maybe.)

Rather ridiculous that those nightmares are the things that keep me up at night, instead of the worries about whether or not we’ve grown too far apart.
I don’t worry as much about that.
We have stayed fairly close – we’ve grown some.  He’s matured in some ways that I hadn’t expected.  And has lost patience in other ways that are only a sign of being apart.
Same with me, I figure.
I don’t worry about that as much as I do the getting used to living with someone.
To having to check with someone.

I haven’t had to check with someone about a decision I’ve made since I was… oh, around 16 or so.

13 years.

This will be new.
Back and forth, back and forth.
A seesaw of minute problems that don’t even exist except in my mind.

I suppose it’s nice not to worry about the bigger things.
And it is.
At least, until I remember the dirty dishes.