the Fear.

I'm at a crux.
I don't know if thats the word for it, really, but it seems to do, so go with it.
So, I'm at a crux.
Not with M (who these days is sans mustache) but with myself within the relationship. Its odd, because from the get go I have been 'myself' with him, and we have something truly wonderful and open and grown up with our relationship. But, after over two months of dating, and essentially living with him in his condo that we decorated, I am starting to feel... The Fear.
The Fear of losing something so wonderful. These little tentacles of insecurity creeping up and over and onto me, my thoughts, my hugs, my kisses. When we first started dating, I would abstain from talking about him too much, getting bitchy at anyone who even mentioned the 'L' Word, panicking at the thought of all this and all that, panicking at the thought of jinxing something so wonderful.
My friends even asked if  'I was into this guy'.
I was.
And yet, we moved forward, sweetly and wonderfully and into the world of whispered I love you's and I love you very much so's.

And now I am terrified. Not of what I was once so afraid of - letting someone in, letting something be real, being responsible for someone else's happiness. But I am terrified of losing him, losing this. Of him changing his mind, and falling out of love with me.
Maybe, at my core, thats what I was afraid of all along.
I can't have another man walk in and say he's changed his mind. 
I hate that I have easily and without fear put so much on to Us.
No that isn't true, I don't hate it.
I love it. But it scares the bajeezus out of me - the idea of losing that.
I told him not long ago,

'... I know that everything won't always be perfect, that's just the way the world works. Sometimes bad things happen, and I feel as though we are building the strong base for a relationship that can withstand the bad things that the world may throw our way. And I feel like we'll always have this time to look back at, when everything was perfect.I feel like we are building a strong base for a future together, and for the first time in my life, that doesn't scare the shit out of me.'

(Oh, the eloquence.)
But in the last week or so, maybe because I have been essentially living with him, as has Kat Moss, I have felt the fear creeping in. The fear of loss, the fear of risking loss. I don't know what the Fear is really, but its there and all I want to do is talk about it ad naseum, talk about my feelings and emotions and yaddayaddayadda, but then I stop, because I get afraid of those making me lose him too.
One of the best things about our relationship is that we've 'always been on the same page', without much conversation about. There was never that discount futon uncomfortable vulnerability that I'd experienced before; there was time, and dialogue, and care and the building of something together. From getting him out of that damn house and into his condo (which is now near completion, with redoing the closet next on the list) and getting me over my weird hang ups about - well, everything - we've done it with ease and grace.
Its moved fast, but at an adult speed.
But I can't help feeling these insecurities take over. I don't know why I started doubting my lovability again, but I kind of did. Like one false step, and the jinx'll set in.
Maybe my lack of outlet, maybe my lack of Me time with my girlfriends has something to do with it; maybe I need a little more of both in my life.
Here's the thing, with my cat at his house (it was not fair, her alone in the Tiny Room all the time) and the fact that his house is 1. much biggger (he has a couch you guys! A couch! And a bath tub!) and 2. generally more comfortable (see: couch, tub, coffee maker, fridge full of sugar free Redbulls, and fresh flowers everywhere and 3. it feels like 'Ours'. We decorated it, we've made it ours. We call it 'Home'.

But, when all is said and done, my Home is a catless mint green studio apartment 35 miles away, with month old dirty dishes in the sink and a closet filled with winter clothes. My Home has started to feel like exactly what is was when I first moved in - an escape from something terrible. An escape from the Ex. And it was always meant to be a place of transition, and though I love it and all the wonderful beach town memories, and time with my girlfriends and my Dutchman, and everything, it never had the comfort of my place with the Ex, the apartment with shared for five years.
My Home was exactly as I've called it for the past two years: A Tiny Room with Kitchen Attached. Or, a glorified closet. And I don't live there anymore. Not for more than 45 minutes about once a week.
But, I've also said I won't move in with anyone else again, too fast or without a Certain Level of Commitment. And to a large degree I'm stickin' to that (except for the fact that I'm writing this from Our Bed right now, with my coffee on My Nightstand.)
So, there are some blurry lines there already.

For someone so happy (which I am) I hate that I am so afraid.
Not afraid to Love, because I do, with all my heart.
Not afraid to see a future with someone, because I see it with clarity.
And for the first time in my adult life, it doesn't scare the shit outta me.

The Fear I feel... Is the fear of being Wrong.
I guess.
Though, to be honest, I've never been wrong about this before. 
Because, I've never felt this way before.
I'm afraid of those things that I cannot control.
I'm afraid of him changing his mind.

I'm afraid it's gotta be jinxed or something.

But I'm pretty sure it's not.

Also, I think I am going to go back to this blog. I've missed it so.