Well, that, and I kept thinking they'd stop! Really, any minute!

I've certainly done that.

I didn't read carefully enough to see that it wasn't a work meeting. Different rules apply, of course...but in a way, the rudeness seems even worse when it's volunteer or community related. Sheesh, respect each other's time people!

But you bring out his chatty side when you're a part of the conversation. At least, that was my experience when we hung out at my brother's restaurant.

Man, that was good times. Let's do that again soon!

Yeah! Or....some time in 2008!

How's packing, Tep? How's the ankle?

The ankle still hurts, but as long as I wear a brace and sneakers, I can get around at a normal walking pace (and a slight limp).

Packing is a monster, but I'm taking tomorrow and Friday off of work, so it'll all get done.

The Boy came over last night with bolt cutters because I lost the key to the padlock on my apartment's storage unit (can you tell I never stored anything of importance down there?) and needed it cut off. (All I kept in there was empty boxes....which I need.)

He spent the night, and as we were falling asleep, he said, "I thought you'd be more stressed about the move, but you seem pretty calm."

I said, "I go through cycles of massive stress, alternating with practicality and got-to-get-this-done-ness. But I was freaking out earlier."

Him: "Oh, good. I was, too."

Me: "Freaking out about the logistics, or about the big scary reality of living together?"

Him: "Both."

Me: "If it makes you feel any better, I am, too. To both. I won't have an apartment to retreat to when I inevitably drive you insane and make you hate me."

Him: "Or when *I* drive *you* insane and make *you* hate *me.*"

Me: "So....we're on the same page, then. Keen."

* * * * * *

This is normal, yes? I've never lived with anyone I loved, so I don't know if this is a sign of imminent doom and that we shouldn't really be doing this and we're going to be miserably unhappy, or if it's just normal jitters.

I mean, my big fear is that he isn't afraid of making *me* hate *him*; he's afraid that *he'll* hate *me,* but he just doesn't want to say it.

normal jitters.

Goes beyond that though...in a really good way. The fact that you can openly express those fears...and don't have a fantasy about how 'differently perfect' living together will be is a very, very good sign.

Fears get a lot smaller when you can actually see them.

I mean, my big fear is that he isn't afraid of making *me* hate *him*; he's afraid that *he'll* hate *me,* but he just doesn't want to say it.

While it seems natural to have that concern, I'll bet you don't have much objective evidence that it's even possible.

But yeah, if you were moving in with NO reservations, that would seem odd.

I'd worry more if you weren't jittery.

Normal and how great that y'all are talking about it. I love this:

Me: "So....we're on the same page, then. Keen."

Just sums everything up so well.

What they said. You're being realistic, which is good. And that probably means you'll be conscious of making sure each other has time and space to him/herself, which is also good.

I mean, my big fear is that he isn't afraid of making *me* hate *him*; he's afraid that *he'll* hate *me,* but he just doesn't want to say it.

While it seems natural to have that concern, I'll bet you don't have much objective evidence that it's even possible.

I guess it doesn't fall under the category of "hate me," but we had a Serious Conversation about whether we could live together, after we went on vacation (because vacation was a "test" of sorts), and he asked me a question that absolutely devastated me.

I really can't overstate that. I thought very seriously about breaking up with him for about a week because of it.

Those of you who are tired of my navel-gazing, just skip the rest of this post, and I apologize in advance for hijacking the thread.

During the Serious Conversation, after we had hashed out what seemed like all the important questions, he said, "Now I have to ask the hard question."

I had no clue what else it could possibly be, so I said, "Go ahead."

He paused for a long moment, and then asked, "Are you going to get bigger?"

Most of you know about my issues with my weight, and that it's the biggest (no pun intended), ugliest issue I have, and I may never resolve how *I* feel about myself for being fat.

So when the man I love asked me that, I just shut down. How does a person answer that? "Why, no; I can say with utter certainty that from this day forth I will not gain another ounce of weight no matter what my life circumstances."

Or possibly "Yes; I plan to gain about 150 pounds between now and the time I hit age 40."

How do you ASK someone that and expect any kind of rational answer?

How do you ask ME that, as someone who claims to love me, and NOT think it would devastate me?

Is that a condition on your love for me? You love me now, but if I gain weight, you won't love me anymore? Should I sign a contract? A 5-pound gain is acceptable, but anything above that and I get the heave-ho?

And you're saying that your love for me is contingent on my weight?

It's my whole childhood and all the bullshit with my mom all over again.

I shut down. What could I say to his question? t edit And by "shut down," I mean "sobbed uncontrollably for about 3 hours while he wouldn't leave my apartment and all I could say to him was 'I'm sorry....I'll do better,' while I couldn't even look at him and pretty much just wanted to die." *That* kind of "shut down."

We eventually talked through it, though I don't really know that I believe we "resolved" it. He said things about my health, and wanting me to be healthy and be able to do active stuff with him. I tried to educate him on the fact that someone can be totally healthy and active even if they're a big fat pig.

But now it's always there, and I can't get rid of it. What *if* I gain weight? Does holiday weight gain count? It's goddamn Christmas time -- everyone gains weight!

So...when he talks about being freaked out by the big scary enormity of living together, all I can think is that he's freaked out by the fact that he doesn't find me attractive and won't love me if I gain any more weight.

He's an amazing man; some of you have met him, and I know you didn't really spend enough time with him to get to know his amazingness, but -- the fact that he's so amazing makes it even worse.

He's the only person in my entire life who never asked me to change in order to be loved.

Except.

So, there's that.

And I may delete all this, because it has me on the verge of tears just typing it. I haven't been able to talk about it with anyone since it happened, because -- how do I have that conversation with my fat-obsessed mom? My workout-addicted, model-thin best friend? I can't. And besides, it's just downright embarassing to admit that my boyfriend asked me if I was going to get fatter.

I mean, *god.*

{{{Tep}}}. The hugs are there even if the post disappears.

{{{Tep}}} I don't think guys (or some guys) understand the huge amount of baggage that comes with that issue. There's so much cultural crap wrapped up in it that it's almost impossible to unpack.

Oh, sweetie, first of all, big hug. I know exactly what you're going through. Second, even the greatest guy (or girl) says stupid shit sometimes. Bad phrasing can be a killer.