Further anxiety

[muckefuck]

First off, thanks to everyone for the support. I went for lunch at a local Japanese place playing maudlin 70's music and I was so miserable that I almost got weepy during "Close the Window Caroline". What stronger proof could there be that I am Not Myself?

I did more than mope into my miso, though. I think I may have come to an important realisation about what home I'm looking for. This is something e. explained to me, that when you go to buy a house, you have some ideal in mind--whether you realise it or not--that's based on a place you've lived or stayed. bunj, for instance, was looking for 205 E. Monroe St., a spacious 1910's frame house.

I'm looking for a two bedroom. A spacious, airy two bedroom with a front and back porch. Fellow UoCers know just the kind of place I mean because the neighbourhood is full of them; whether they've ever lived in one or not, Hyde Parkers have been in them countless times. Unfortunately, I can't afford a two bedroom--at least, not in my preferred neighbourhood. So I have to compromise. So far, I've been sacrificing layout for location, but clearly I'm not 100% okay with that.

What makes this all the tougher is that I could afford a very nice two bedroom if I went in with monshu. And he's actually in the market for one--that is, he's dipping his toe in, much as I was last year around this time. At that time, he was going to rule out sharing a place, but he wasn't going to commit himself to that either.

Oh, what a difference a year makes!

Last night, he announced the end of his reservations about buying a place together. We talked quite concretely about getting a new place in two or three years time. Now I'm left asking myself why the hell I'm going through all the headache of looking for, buying, redecorating, and moving into a place only to have to do it all again in a few years--and this time, without the advantages of being a first-time buyer and with the purchase contingent on the sale of two condos, not one.

I'm sure monshu would say this is good for me, since it would put us on equal footing when the time came. I say what's good for me often sucks ass.

And then there are the uncertainties that plague me. What if we don't have two or three year's time? It's hard to date the beginning of our relationship exactly, but if we consider it started when I moved out on my own, then it's been four years. Getting the new place could come just when we're due for the seven year itch. Could moving in together be more strain than we could handle?

Plus there's the possibility that he won't even be around then. The whole experience with Nuphy has sobered me up on that account. And then there are reminders, like the collapsing porch in Lincoln Park or the farmers' market in Santa Monica--that death can strike anywhere, anytime. If it's my death, then my problems are solved (or just beginning).

I'm so tired of living provisionally, but what's the alternative when life is so uncertain? When I'm spending the weekend with monshu, lounging in his bed and parrying his bons mots, I can fool myself into thinking that these hours are eternal. But then the moment comes where I have to hop aboard the bus and return to my lonely hovel. I don't want to tear that one down only to rebuild it more expensively elsewhere.

Comments

[snowy-owlet.livejournal.com]

Sending hugs your way, dearest.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

HUGS RECEIVED!
HUGS RECIPROCATED!