Loving You Is Terrifying

When I met you, I was in a very bad place. I had recently sworn off relationships and hoped to be on the pathway to finding myself again after the most emotionally draining year I’ve ever had. I was ready to start living my life for me and only me. I had barely inhaled a breath of freedom when you appeared.

I had moved to a new city, and my cousin convinced me to join him and his friends on a night out. I was reluctant, but I decided to go anyway. You were there. You were wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, your hair and beard neatly combed. We started chatting; you bought me some drinks and made fun of me in a playful way. You weren’t really my type, but something about you was so undeniably charming, and I’m a sucker for a bold personality. You were confident but not too cocky, amusing but not too cheesy, and manly but not too macho. “Shit,” I thought. You got my number and actually called me to hang out one day (a real telephone call!). I was impressed. We started casually hanging out. I knew I was falling for you, but I wasn’t ready to let you know that I actually cared about you. I never called first. You pursued me and I let it happen. You always surprised me. You were a great cook, pleasant to my parents, and treated me better than any man I’d ever had. Eventually, you won me over.

Here we are now three years later. I am more in love with you than I have ever been. I look at you and still cannot believe you choose to spend your time with me. You are my best friend, my confidant, and my partner in crime. We have more fun with each other than any couple I know. I know you feel the same way. I have put so much of myself into you. I fear that if anything were to happen, I would be permanently broken. Sometimes when I think of a day that we could potentially go our separate ways, I start to panic. I don’t want to lose you, ever. I can’t imagine a time when I can’t drive down the road to your house and we can cook dinner and smoke and watch Netflix and cuddle and have mind-blowing sex. I can’t imagine traveling and having adventures with anyone else or feeling more like myself around anyone else. I can’t imagine anyone else understanding me the way that you do. I love you so much I would crawl into your skin and become a part of you if I could. If you feel sad, I feel devastated for you. When you are happy, I am elated and over the moon for you. When someone hurts you, I want to hurt them double. I would literally do anything for you. That feeling is so fucking scary. Do you understand how frightening that is?

The thing with us is that we never lost our individuality. We have always had separate goals and dreams and have always encouraged each other. We’ve never made things too serious. I never wanted to be the person that held you back from pursuing something. We both talk about where we want to live and what we want to do and sometimes it’s similar, sometimes it’s not. It’s all very uncertain. Now we are at that age where we need to start making life choices. We’ve never really discussed marriage. You’ve always been a horrible planner and terrible at commitment. I hate that I stall my own life for you because I am too afraid of losing you. I never wanted to be this way. I never wanted to have someone else be a factor in my life decisions. I guess I didn’t prepare for how terrifying it is to feel totally and completely attached to someone else.