SumLightCat
Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 14, 2009
- Posts
- 76
It's one of those days, I suppose. The sun's going, leaves flying off the trees, long sleeves, wooly socks and rain-slick pavements. It's getting cold, and cold outside also makes me cold inside, sometimes.
Her and me, we've been talking about moving in together. In a month or two. Somewhere small, fit for two. Maybe it's the cold, like I said, but I've gotten cold feet. Suddenly I'm full of questions for myself, most of all: how do I know I really want to do this? Maybe she just wants it so much and I don't want to disappoint her? Wouldn't that be a right rum do.
Sure, I love her, but this seems like a step. And, well, steps you have to make if you are to get anywhere. But those autumn-time blues make my tummy feel funny and I wonder if this is the path I want to tread. "Do I love her enough?" I'll ask myself, and wonder. We get along okay, I tell myself, we get along okay. But heck, I'd get along okay on my own as well.
And then I go out for a night and have a grand, fine old time by myself, and I wonder. Why don't I have fun like this with her? Why do we never seem to go out like this? Always worry about how her friends will feel. Always have to apologise for other women I had in the past.
Once, not too long ago, I ran across a cynical note: when women who know what they want and men who don't know what they want get together, that's marriage. I admit, it does come back to me.
I worry ... will we move in together and then I'll feel imprisoned? Sometimes it feels like she enjoys control just a bit too much for my taste. And then cold autumn days come like today, and I think back, to days we'd spent together, earlier in the year, when summer was in the air. Prettier days, when she nevertheless couldn't help grilling me over exes and hobbies, trips I'd take with the guys and why I don't take her places. And I think of how she gets that strange look in her eye and asks me in a pained voice, "Honey, what are you hiding, why do you always turn off your email when I'm around?"
Oh, I think back to that, and remember looking stupidly at her and thinking, "What? Huh?"
And she'll elaborate, tell me how I switched off my gmail tab so lightning fast just as she came by. How she's sure I'm hiding things from her, and my brain will tick over slow and glacial, until it realizes that she's upset because I'd cleared my stuff off her computer, because she had to work.
The cold north wind was blowing hard today, and those thoughts just wouldn't go away. How many other things will bring that sad, upset look to her eye, when we live together? What other things will I have to account for?
And will she always ask me, "Why don't we go places, do things?" in her upset, sad little voice, instead of saying, "Let's go places, do things!"
In my gut a doubtful worm does stir, cold and callous ... how can I expect something happily with such a monster munching away beneath my heart?
Her and me, we've been talking about moving in together. In a month or two. Somewhere small, fit for two. Maybe it's the cold, like I said, but I've gotten cold feet. Suddenly I'm full of questions for myself, most of all: how do I know I really want to do this? Maybe she just wants it so much and I don't want to disappoint her? Wouldn't that be a right rum do.
Sure, I love her, but this seems like a step. And, well, steps you have to make if you are to get anywhere. But those autumn-time blues make my tummy feel funny and I wonder if this is the path I want to tread. "Do I love her enough?" I'll ask myself, and wonder. We get along okay, I tell myself, we get along okay. But heck, I'd get along okay on my own as well.
And then I go out for a night and have a grand, fine old time by myself, and I wonder. Why don't I have fun like this with her? Why do we never seem to go out like this? Always worry about how her friends will feel. Always have to apologise for other women I had in the past.
Once, not too long ago, I ran across a cynical note: when women who know what they want and men who don't know what they want get together, that's marriage. I admit, it does come back to me.
I worry ... will we move in together and then I'll feel imprisoned? Sometimes it feels like she enjoys control just a bit too much for my taste. And then cold autumn days come like today, and I think back, to days we'd spent together, earlier in the year, when summer was in the air. Prettier days, when she nevertheless couldn't help grilling me over exes and hobbies, trips I'd take with the guys and why I don't take her places. And I think of how she gets that strange look in her eye and asks me in a pained voice, "Honey, what are you hiding, why do you always turn off your email when I'm around?"
Oh, I think back to that, and remember looking stupidly at her and thinking, "What? Huh?"
And she'll elaborate, tell me how I switched off my gmail tab so lightning fast just as she came by. How she's sure I'm hiding things from her, and my brain will tick over slow and glacial, until it realizes that she's upset because I'd cleared my stuff off her computer, because she had to work.
The cold north wind was blowing hard today, and those thoughts just wouldn't go away. How many other things will bring that sad, upset look to her eye, when we live together? What other things will I have to account for?
And will she always ask me, "Why don't we go places, do things?" in her upset, sad little voice, instead of saying, "Let's go places, do things!"
In my gut a doubtful worm does stir, cold and callous ... how can I expect something happily with such a monster munching away beneath my heart?
