No Ring On It!

For the past six months or so I have been living with the guy I know as my boyfriend. I find it strange to call him that…my boyfriend. I don’t know if it’s because it feels so different than the way it was with the first boy that I called…my boyfriend, or if it is because we were in that “not exclusive but still sleeping together” stage for so long.
I make myself sad sometimes.
These six months have been a crazy mix-roller coaster of emotions. Whatever mix of words would best call it. I found out that I love him. More than I have ever loved a man before. I love everything about him. I also found out that I’m mostly sure I don’t want to marry him. I don’t know if it’s because I’m utterly terrified of love or if it’s because I am terrified of making the choice that would lead to being unhappy the rest of my life.
Honestly?…If I were to be brutally honest with myself. I hate loving someone, I am afraid, that does not love me back. At least not in the way that I understand love.
From the beginning, it seemed like our whole “seeing each other”-courtship-whatever you call it was a dance. Somewhat. Both of us tip toed around letting the other person know how each of us felt. Of course, sadly, I caved first. And I asked him over. And over. And over. To tell me how he felt about me. And because I liked him so much, I gave him a so so many chances to tell me. Sometimes, when I’m alone and really stop to think about it…the thought comes across my head that he didn’t feel a whole lot for me. Even if he does now. He may not have then.
Which makes me feel kind of pathetic. Just sometimes. Other times I’m just happy I have him.
I know it might not make sense, but I think that’s why my ideas on marriage have dipped and changed. I used to believe marriage was this beautiful, eternal thing that bonds two people. I still believe that now, I suppose. I just don’t want that anymore. I don’t think anyone could ever love me that much. I don’t ever see having that “marriage talk”. I don’t want to have it myself. I can’t let anyone else in but myself.
And you know what? I’m okay with that.

If you like it, you shouldn’t put a ring on it!

Tell Me

I don’t know how to

Say I love you the way I really mean it

Share all my thoughts

At night when I want you to hear

Me

Tell you all my secrets

Can I

Make you happy

While knowing I am too?

Wish I knew how to

Trust you

What you say and how you say it

Who you are

Even though I know

There isn’t one reason not to

When will I know

You aren’t leaving

You won’t hurt me

You trust me too?

Will I ever know

That you do love me too

Without falling out of it

Myself?

Tell me.

 

Savannah

My name is not Savannah. For the sake of my privacy and the privacy of the people I care for or do not care for, my name is Savannah. I am a Savannah at heart, so it works I suppose. Savannahs are brave, beautiful, kind, generous, and lovely. She loves to the fullest extent. She feels and thinks to the fullest extent. Brave and honest. She is real.

Not that I’ve met a Savannah. I actually never have. But I’m sure if I had, she would be. She would be all those perfect things.

I might not be…I know with almost absolute certainty that I am not…but I want to be. I am not Savannah, but every bit of me here is real. I need you to know everything I know. Whoever you are. I need you to believe I am real. I need you to believe I am brave and beautiful and wonderful.

Because I don’t.