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So here I am, feeling empty and alone, even though the near perfect girl is in bed down the hall, sleeping, waiting for me to come to bed. So what is it about myself that I can't let her see, why can't I open myself to her the way that I should; the way that I imagine people in love should. I remember feeling that I was in love. It was the happiest feeling I could have ever felt, a warmth in your belly that grew and grew, until you were walking around the grocery store or the elevator corridor at work with a big goofy grin on your face, the kind of grin you can't shut off no matter how much you want to. I remember that. So what the hell happened to that? We progressed so far, and then I hit a brick wall and fell down, and now I only catch fleeting glimpses of what I once felt. We can still laugh together and talk together; a girl who can discuss Linux and quantum mechanics is special indeed, but try as I might I find it very difficult to find that blinding, grinning love I once felt. We started out over three years ago, I bet I haven't really felt more than a flicker of what I once did in two.

Maybe it was just lust in the first place, or maybe it was a good connect we had that slipped in someway. She helped me though moving into the city, which was hard for me. Lot's of phone time though, compelete with the long pauses where neither of us had anything to say, but we didn't want to be rude by hanging up the phone.

She wants to get married. Badly. She listed off her reasons one day in the car.

  • My sister is getting married
  • My Mom got married when she was young (her Mom is now divorced and re-married)
  • So did my grandparents
  • She's excited about having the ceremony and the cake and the guests and the whole nine yards (she likes attention)
  • tax benefits
  • and a bunch of other things.

I said it sounded like she wanted to get married for all the wrong reasons. She started to cry. So then I comforted her and I explained. Not once did she mention love or romance anywhere in her list. I'm sort of a hopeless romantic. I feel as if I could marry her, but that it would be just a contract between two people. You'll clean the house, take care of the kids, and make my meals, and I'll bring home a big paycheck so you can afford $100 haircuts. A sort of survival contract that probably works ok until the breadwinner retires and the pair have to spend all day with each other, and end up realizing that they hate each other. I've got an irrational hope for something more, something deeper, where I can go to sleep next to her feeling comfortable and at home, where I can see her at the end of my work day and have the uncontrollable urge to grin. To be happy to see her. To be happy, even fighting. The sad thing for me is, right now, I'm happiest when she's threatening to throw things at me or do other nasty things. I have the most fun with her when I'm pissing her off, which, now that I think back, is the way it's always been. Except now, she's a little less playful, a little more exasperated. She keeps say she feels old, but I think you can feel any age you want.

We had a discussion today; about money. This wasn't the typical couple argument over money, who's spending more than who, who stole who's twenty bucks. She complained that I never tell her anything, as if I still have trust issues. Which I do, I suppose. So I said that I was thinking about selling my car in the next year, and getting something cheaper, so I could pay tuition and rent and all that. She started running through all the alternatives, making my money problem into hers. I do this for her as well; except she's a compulsive worrier who gives off a nasty vibe when she's worrying about something, which is most of the time, so I try to help her resolve her worries, sometimes I can help, but it feels as if I make it worse 75% of the time. She gets exasperated and frustrated and almost cries half the time. Anyway, I said that I didn't want to tell her stuff like that because she already has enough stuff to worry about. However, I can see why she doesn't feel I trust her. I guess I just don't have an automatic feeling that she's someone I can let help with these sort of things.

I guess, in the end, I'm just looking for that special magical thing that happens when you can talk to someone about anything, even about things that may not be polite, but which have to be said, and you can do it without fear of repercussion, without fear of your innermost thoughts and insecurities being dredged up at dinner with your friends. That little thing where word just flow like water, and it make you feel good and whole and connected inside to be doing it. Just to connect with someone. But instead we go for coffee, and we sit and read the paper.

Maybe we should both just move on from this. But it's so scary being alone, alone again in the world, even more alone than before. I feel this, I know she feels this. Maybe we're just clinging to this as a refuge from a cruel cruel world where it's totally impossible for a shy person to meet anyone. And maybe it's totally worth the effort. Maybe I'll again find my dream girl in her.

I tired of feeling detached. Maybe I just need to work on my communication skills.

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