Update: CN's job transfer to Savannah isn't finalized, but his boss said it looks "promising", whatever that means. He and I did some number crunching, and it really just makes so much financial sense for us to go ahead and shack up, dammit. We both have mortgages and we may not get renters for a few months. There's no way I could afford rent AND a mortgage on my own. (I am not getting that big of a raise!) Besides, we all know how bad I am with money. *ahem* So I am going to have to suck it up and hope that CN will eventually buy the cow, instead of only enjoying the free milk, if you get my drift.
And I am not 100% comfortable with it. I know what you are saying/thinking: "I did it with my man, and now we're married! Don't worry!" or "It's no big deal. He loves you. You will totally get married, so just chill and go with the flow." or "You never really know someone until you live with them. This will give you insight into your marriage!" or "Marriage, schmarriage! You need the 2nd income! Be glad you're on such good terms with your future roommate!"
Which are all valid comments. But I worry. What if one year of living together turns into three...five...eight...and I turn into Little Miss Where Is My Ring??? I don't want to be that girl. With the bitching and the nagging and the ultimatums. But I will eventually get there, I know it. I already have days where I want to scream at him, "What are you waiting for???!!!!" And I always joke that I am free on Saturday afternoon if he wants to run down to the courthouse.
Also, what if we break up? (Ok, at this point, it's extremely unlikely-- laughable, actually -- but still. It could happen!) Then I am stuck with a 12-month lease on my own. Ouch.
My point is, I want some security. Preferrably in the form of a large gemstone on that all-important finger. I want him to put his money where his mouth is. I have been trying to stay calm and trust that he will do it one day like he says he will. I have made him promise that it will be before my ovaries shrivel and before my boobs are down to my knees. But that's about as much as I have said. Deep down inside, I am scared of being left high and dry or turning into a shrill bitch.
And living with a man is something I always imagined doing after I got married. I guess I'm just old-fashioned. CN thinks shacking up is a no-brainer and he's not getting why I'm freaking out about it. I tell him it's because he doesn't have a uterus. Which puts a puzzled expression on his face.
When CN asked me a few weeks ago, "Could we live together if we got engaged? Or does it have to be marriage?" I didn't really know what to say. I hadn't thought about that option. But that's a decent amount of commitment. I know, in the logical part of my brain, that he's not going anywhere. He's in it for the long haul. But that lobe in my brain, the one in charge of "What if?", is buzzing with paranoia, and I can't shut it up. Triggered by his question, that worrysome lobe began quivering, and I almost blurted out, "No! Marry me, you commitment-phobe! What the hell?! We are perfect together! Stop stalling!"
But then I remembered: moving to Savannah was my idea. Not his. And he's totally down for going, no questions asked. Moving farther away from his family. Selling or renting his house. All the personal, financial and material upheaval that comes with living in a new place. He's down for it. Because he knows it's what I want and that it will make me happy. (It will make him happy, too, don't get me wrong -- he wanted to move there, too. In like 3 years. Not 3 months. LOL)
So I said, "Yes. We can live together if we are engaged."
And then I let it drop. I didn't push it anymore. In fact, with all the talking about moving, I kind of put it in the back of my head and decided that I would worry about that later. If we got engaged first, great, if not, oh well. In other words, I was totally caving on the issue. (Shhh! Don't tell him that.)
So imagine my surprise when last night, as I was cleaning up after our dinner of bean and cheese quesadillas. CN grabbed my hands and said, "Are you ok with living with me?"
And again, I didn't really know what to say. I was....mostly. I said, "Well, I mean, yeah. But it's not really the way I had planned it. But I don't see how else I can afford it. It just doesn't make sense for us to both move there and not live together."
"Would you feel better about it if I got you a ring?" he asked.
"YES!" I shouted.
"Ok, well, we can go ring shopping. Email me some photos of what you like tomorrow when you get to work." [Note: At last count, I emailed 8.]
"Can we do that this weekend?" I asked, jumping up and down.
"I thought we were going to drive down to Savannah and look at apartments," he replied.
I reminded him that we don't even know what our budget is yet, and that we might as well just stay here and go ring shopping. He agreed.