The First Week

Well... it's been one whole week. It's been a weird week too, sort of like those days that never seem to end, but you keep on remembering them long after they're over? Yeah, something like that... out of Groundhog's Day or something.

It's weird, thinking it -let alone saying it- aloud: I have a boyfriend. I want it to stay that way, too, because I have this inert sense inside of me saying "You will *always* be alone." Pathetic, isn't it? My friends have been warning me all week to be careful-- that all guys think below the belt, and even though this guy is the absolute sweetest, kindest, and certainly most romantic (to an extent) guy I've ever dealt with, with a great sense of humor and... yeah, this is me waxing eloquent about the 'hated opposite sex.' Wow.

I like being with him, but I always have that stupid conscience in my head yelling at me that it won't last-- and with the way I think (the same way I write-- to escape, and find a new world that is just as impossible to find in real life as fairy tales or Harlequin Romances) I end up going too far into the future, and imagining whether or not we'll be together four years from now.

I remember him telling me in one instant message that he doesn't like to dwell on the past, and that he lives in the present-- and he loves being with me, and that was all that mattered. That had to be the sweetest thing anyone ever said about me, and my idiotic conscience promptly shut up. But still, a week alone...?

I mean, it's JUST been a week. We've gotten far more heavily involved than I'm sure several other couples do in their first week, but then again, what do I know about other couples? I don't spy on couples, and I've never been in a real relationship before. So what do I know? But light kissing, sweet touches, and holding hands gets heavier every time he comes over to my house, and even though I trust him (and should I lose that trust, I can kick his arse from here to high heaven) I'm not exactly sure what to do around him, or how to react.

I'm not complaining, you know, but I would have to say my greatest fear is being alone-- and I don't want to be one of those sitcom girls who recalls her first love (and I mean love, not crush) with animosity. They meet each other coincidentally on the street, have a latte and catch up on old times. It turns out he's successful--and married, with 2.5 kids, a lovely wife, and a white picket fence house near a country club. I don't want to be like that. I'm not expecting one of those 'high-school-sweetheart-turned-husband' relationships, but I just get so scared sometimes... and it freaks me out that I can even admit it.

Last night, when we were at the bus stop to wait for his bus to catch him and bring him home, I just started crying. I know, I know-- pathetic. As you can tell, I have very little self-confidence, no matter how overblown my ego can seem at times. So when a guy finally starts treating me like a person and not a reputation, I have this backup mechanism that puts me down. I had had this rotten nightmare two nights before-- just of all those practically impossible yet still everyday occurrences that could take him away from me. I had these daydreams that he'd go home, ask his sister why in the world I'd be so afraid of something, and she'd muse a moment, say "I think she's afraid of losing you-- not of you breaking up with her, she sounds too strong for that to break her-- but of something outside both your control taking you away from her. Maybe she thought you would die or something." And that's exactly what I think the dream was-- that I would never see him again.

This was a more vivid version of the dream I'd had Friday night, after we'd both gone to an anime screening together, and we had to part ways just outside the college. Because I was so out of it that day, when I set my alarm clock Friday night (since I had to take SATs on Saturday) I set it for 630p, not 630a... so I overslept and missed my SATs. I still got to spend Saturday with him, but I kept on remembering that horrid dream about never seeing him again-- because I wouldn't be able to, not because it was just a coincidence or anything.
I have to wonder-- why me? Why do I always get so attached, and then so afraid, almost desperate to push what makes me feel better away? I'm telling you-- I'm a shrink case. I've probably got more psychological "issues" than the standard schizo, and all number of Docs would no doubt love to pick apart my brain. Heck, if they could finally make me understand why I keep on reacting to relationships (of any kind) like this, I'd let him have at it.

One week... I really want it to last, but I am so afraid that, of my own doings, it won't.