Continental Divide

I feel like we're drifting again. We try not to, but it's hard because we have so little shared context - he lives in his world, and I, in mine. His world is gaming and computers and movies and beer with his friends. My world is law and motherhood and novels and long conversations with my friends. He cleans his room; I clean my house. His free time is all his own; my free time is rarely my own. He hasn't lived with a partner in many years; I haven't lived without a partner until recently.

Our worlds do overlap in places, but I worry that there is not enough to sustain us. I want to believe - REALLY want to believe - it's all a distance issue; that when he and I are in the same city, we'll have more to say to one another. Cause we certainly don't now. He calls and we end up going through the motions of saying "hello, howareyou, I love you, I want to marry you." Then we sit in silence, until one of us either comes up with a topic of discussion or we hang up. Usually we hang up. It's getting to the point where I want to tell him not to call unless he has something to say.

Part of the problem is the time difference: when he calls, it's after his day is done, but mine is still going on. So he's tired, and I'm usually in the middle of studying or getting dinner ready for the child and I. And since I don't get out of class until 9:30pm, he's long asleep by the time I can and want to talk. Weekends aren't a whole lot better because although we have the time, there's still not a ton to talk about. It's not that I need long, profound conversations. I don't. I have other friends who fulfill that need. But I do need conversation of some sort. Dialogue. Sharing. SOMETHING.

And as much as I'm excited that he'll be moving here in the not too distant, I'm also terrified. Terrified that it WON'T get better when we're together. Terrified that he'll get out here, and it won't be right. Terrified that I'll have misgivings. I would like to resolve these fears before he moves out here, but the only way they CAN resolve is by him being here. It's such a huge risk. A huge, huge risk. And I've screwed up royally before. I really don't want to do it again.

I want so much for it to work for us, and I'm so afraid it won't, that part of me wants to just end it now, and be alone. Not have to deal with ANY partners in my life. Just go on about my life, without the pressure and stress and, yes, joys of a relationship. Just get a job, save some money, buy a little place in a cohousing group or an urban commune, and raise my daughter. Then, when she's grown and I am old, retire to someplace semi rural where I can have some goats and chickens and a horse and some dogs and a vegetable garden, and be an earthy, eccentric old lady who still takes occasional cases to keep her brain in good working order. I could paint. And read. And learn how to make cheese and how to cure prosciutto. And every now and again, he would come for a visit, or I would go to him.

Yet the thought of a life without the man I've loved since I was 18 causes an ache in the pit of my stomache. He is, quite literally, the man of my dreams. The one I've waited for all these years. How can I NOT try? How can I not give him everything I have? How can I not honor him with that?

Crap. I hate this.