My Happily Ever After

(This was written 2/5/09. Obviously I don't have constant internet access.)

I guess.... I wish I weren't so young. So naive, so easily hurt, so easily controlled by my own emotions. I wish I could lock myself up inside a box on so many occasions, and judge whatever situation as dispassionately as possible.
But that just can't happen, can it.
See, I have this habit of..getting entirely too emotionally involved. And I suppose this time, when it came back to bite me, I was already becoming emotionally shut down. I was much more able to ignore the feeling of my insides roiling and turning to ice, then disappearing entirely, than I normally would be able to.
Today, really...just has not turned out to be my day, even though the close finds me downstairs on my computer at three am, because my dad is in my bed, asleep. I guess he figured I lied about my curfew the other night and decided to catch me this time around. I love how I always wondered exactly when he would get around to using that particular method. Sleeping in my bed, I mean.
Anyway, let me tell you quickly why it is that I am so....low? Guess that's a good word.
So, there is this movie, called Repo. It is a movie, opera style, you know, so everyone sings every bloody word. Now, normally, I would not mind this type of movie, I enjoy musicals, I find nothing wrong with them.
This movie is about an organization that, after a huge epidemic started wiping out the human species, begins giving operations and organ transplants to people who need them. I don't remember the name they give the company...Orgo-something or other.
They put you on a payment plan if you cannot already pay for your donated organ, and let you leave. You proceed to pay a monthly bill or whatever. But the catch is, if you miss payments or don't make any at all, the company sends out Repo Man to repossess your organs.
Example: You have a heart, transplanted of course. You do not make your payment. A man in a suit sporting a doctor-ish look comes, hunts you down, and rips out your organs right there.
I think I made it through about twenty minutes of bad acting, horrible music, distateful themes, and finally, downright disgusting, open gore, before I finally moved Sam's legs and just left.
Thing that bothered me the most, Sam was saying he liked it. The turning point for me was when it openly showed a man's innards directly after he was cut open, as Repo Man sang happily about doing his disgusting job as a legal assassin. Intestines, lungs, stomach, everything, right there on the screen.
I believe "Oh my god, Sam." were my exact words. I got up, figuring I could just stay in the kitchen, but I could still hear everything and retreated to Sam's bedroom. I felt disgusted, at that movie, at the fact that I watched it, everything. And I was not only remotely disturbed that my boyfriend was out there enjoying something that I could absolutely not stomach, for more than moral reasons.
I just sat on his bed. I felt like I wanted to cry, although I instantly decided that would be a stupid and irrational decision. Also I figured that someone was bound to walk in on me, and I was proved right a few minutes later when Jorden came to knock on the door, under the pretense of seeing Mieshka, my Russian Dwarf Hamster, which I currently keep at Sam's apartment.
We had been texting during the movie, sharing our opinions on just how stupid it was, but after watching the man get cut open...it was entirely too much for me, and I guess for him too. After briefly venting on just how beyond sick and wrong that movie was, Sam showed up through the doorway.
Now, I have this thing. Even if I am so opposed to something, so disgusted by something, reference movie, I will not voice my opinion and tell others to not watch it simply because I do not agree with it. This was the situation I found myself in as Sam asked what I was doing.
I simply stated that I was going to stay in his room until that movie was finished. He asked if I wanted to go home, and I deflected by saying he could just go finish it and I would stay in the back. I told him I didn't care, and to just go back and turn it on again.
He and Jorden both left. I just curled on the bed and thought, as I heard various badly sung opera straining through the cracks under the door. I tried as hard as I could to not pay attention.
Presently the door opened again, and it was Sam. He told me that he had turned it off and was not going to finish it, and was instead coming back to be with me.
I have to say I was grateful, and as he went on to agree with me that Repo was wrong on so many levels it was ridiculous, I did feel slightly better. But I found myself with a cold mask on my face, I didn't want to smile, to laugh, anything.
At first when he sat down he asked if I was okay, and I straight up told him I was utterly disgusted by that movie. He said that, while he was watching it, that he didn't really register exactly how bad it was, but now that it was off and he was in the room with me, he understood why I couldn't bear to watch any more of it.
I still could feel the out of place desire to cry, and laid still on his bed and let him talk, only answering as needed, as shortly as possible.
He kept on asking me if there was anything I wanted to talk about, and after a few times it was obvious that there was nothing on my mind he wanted to hear, he had something to get out. I don't say that meanly. So I asked him what was up.
I guess he didn't pick the opportune moment to bring up our progressing relationship. When he said that we don't talk about how we are doing and things of that sort, just keep eachother 'on the same page with our relationship', I made it clear that, if he had brought this up two hours prior, or maybe tomorrow, he would have been/would be much more likely to get a good response out of me than he would be at that moment.
I just let him talk.
At the end of it, the basic gist of everything was 'I don't want us rushing into a commitment we aren't ready for, I want to give you a chance to grow and experience the things you want to...'
It wasn't a break up speech, even though the feelings in my stomach did not agree with my head, so I just asked him one question that he could answer how I needed him too, no matter what he said.
"Do you think of me as your girlfriend, or your fiance?"
I can't remember everything he said. He thinks of the ring he gave me as a promise ring, and it means so very much to him, which I completely understand. It was a good answer, even when he asked me if that was what I was looking for, and I said "Not necessarily." I meant that in a more 'that was unexpected' way.
Which brings me to the original point of my lack of emotional control at the beginning.
I've gotten too wrapped up in the thought of being with him forever. Of marrying him, having a family... Even if at times it all felt entirely unreal and impossible, more often than not, that was not the case.
When he asked me the same question all I said was, "You are my boyfriend, and I wish you were my fiance." That's as easily as I could sum it up. I want it. I want him. I want that commitment. But now I get to break myself down for a while, force my brain back closer to the line of reality my life is currently following. Get myself back to the present before I begin overly-anticipating a future that I very likely may never have at all.
The only concrete thing: I love him, he loves me. Even sick, disgusted, sad and upset, I still wanted to curl into his arms and have him comfort the hurt that he may have taken a part in causing. It's like asking someone to kiss away a bruise they gave you. It makes no sense.
I still wanted it though.
So fine. No more future surfing. No more wearing his ring on my ring finger. No more thinking about anything beyond the beginning of next month as far as we are concerned.
At least, I can say no more thinking about it. I don't think I'll do it either way. As scared as I am of the future, I already have him tied into it. You think I would have already learned my lesson with Mike. We were engaged for three days, and it ripped my apart from the inside out for a month before I found Sam.
If I calculate that, it will take me so long to recover from losing Sam I don't think I would even bother trying if the circumstance ever arose.
He's the only thing I want in my forever, and who I picture on the cover of my Happily Ever After.