Ok, so totally not breaking up with awesomeness. (I'm seriously concerned my moodswings are gonne start messing up the laws of physics at this point. One more emotional crisis and it's bye-bye gravity. *sigh* Oh I just have so much responsibility these days, really.)
I told him about this blog and how I have reopened it (that is, if that's ok with you page. Your blankness. Sir). And somehow that led to him telling me there might be a proposal at some point. You know. Proposal. With a capital P. Which was like "aw.... That's terrifying..."
Of course, as I have come to terms with, I am, in fact, a girl. So seriousness and commitement are (goddammit!) a plus. But talking about marriage maybe sometime down the line, while it's nice to hear I'm not just something to pass the time (even if extremely joyfully passed) with, is maybe raising my expectations a tad to much. When this eventually blows up, I am going to be very upset.
And when I say upset I mean slutty and tequilafied. And I was really hoping I'd put that part of my life behind me. I don't want to accidentally desacrate anymore gravestones. I don't need to piss god off anymore, I really don't. He'd have me be a sewage worker in hell. And that would suck. So yeah. Tequila = a river of devil-poo.
I'm terribly in love.
PS
I got drunk and told him about the time I had sex with a girl. For several month. When I was technically a virgin. So that's awesome. He didn't mind though. Just threatened to tell everybody else I know. And laughed at me. And veeeery fuzzy on this, but I think we said I love you to eachother. While I was srunk that time. The time with the girl-sex. Might investigate.
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