Where does one begin? Do I start with saying that Ross and I are no longer moving in together or do I say we're out of a slump?

Either way, both those conclusions came after three days and three huge conversations.

The first involved the cuddling talk, where we both acknowledged that we had stoppped touching each other and that there was a problem. And I covered that.

The second conversation was the next day, or maybe the day after, but regardless it was soon after the first conversation. We were both feeling better but there was still a strain. We had a disagreement and it resulted in him and me exchanging e-mails while I was at work. The e-mail I read when I got home shook me. He was unhappy and sad and didn't know what to do about it. He had negative feelings about our relationship because he felt guilty all the time.

And so we talked for an hour. And it came out he didn't want to live with me. It sounded like it was because we were having problems and I said they were fixable and not going to linger like this well into April.

We also talked about his martyr complex. He had been making all these sacrifces for me that, yes, were kind but unasked for. His visits home were shortened to one night for me. He didn't go out with friends that often for me. And I had never asked that he do any of those things on my behalf. All I care about is being in the know and being aware of when he's leaving and when he's coming back. Some advance notice would be nice. The amount of time concerns me less because what's two or three days?

He also can't say no. If I ask him to do something for me he'll do it. I can't censor myself. I need to be able to ask. He needs to decide what he can and cannot do and tell me yes or no accordingly. His guilt and feelings of being underappreciated were misplaced. So he's going to work on that and I'm going to help him.

I went over after the conversation was over and we cuddled on the couch, which has been rearranged for better cuddling. It was a cozy night.

But the next day I felt uneasy. This was yesterday. I usually walk around feeling loved by Ross. It's a part of my day, just feeling like he loves me. But that was gone and I felt sort of empty and sad. I had laundry at his place and I went to get it after work. He had plans with a friend after 7:00 and so we figured I would stay until then.

But as he was holding me, I felt so vulnerable. I usually feel safe and comfortable. And I started to cry. He always knows when I'm crying.

And so we had our third conversation. I was thrown off by not living together. It hurt. It put my life into turmoil. I had been emotionally and mentally preparing for it for over half a year and now I had to go in a completely new direction.

He had apparently only really thought about it in the new year and freaked out. He hadn't truly considered the loss of personal space and the reality of me living there every day and night.

I said, "I feel like I've been put on a rug just to have it pulled from under me."

"I wish you had never brought the idea up."

"I feel like I trust you less. Like I can't fully have faith in you anymore."

That was the worst. We talked and I cried more and he held me and felt bad for hurting me. I felt so horrible. Things I believed and counted on were suddenly gone and I no longer had a place to live, I was no longer moving forward with my boyfriend and I lost some trust in him.

When I asked him what he was thinking about, he was worried about us because we were so different. I knew he was thinking about the future. We had discussed that and we wanted different things.

But since that conversation months ago I had been doing some thinking. I had been evaluating what I need in my life to make me happy. I decided to seriously consider the country life Ross wanted to see if there were things about it that would make me happy.

I thought about designing a home, rather than picking one out in an urban or suburban setting. I thought about the peace and tranquillity and the stars in the sky. I thought about bonfires and raising children in open air. I thought about a gabled house with a covered porch and wrap-around veranda. I thought about a cozy place.

And those things made me happy. What I would have to give up is a career. I would be financially dependant. I would need to learn to drive.

I reconciled those thoughts with the knowledge that I could still write fiction, Ross doesn't have a problem with me not working, and if I only drive when I had to and not as a regular occurance... these things were not so bad.

Trips to the city would be exciting. I'd have more free time.

That sort of life would not leave me wanting or deprived because what I would give up would open other doors to things I could gain. I can live in the country. It's more important to him to live there than it is for me to live in the city. That's just how it is.

So I relayed this to him. And his relief was so great I could feel it exciting me. He was happy because I had removed the one major problem that had prevented him from truly seeing a future with me.

And so that night was massive. And I cried again because I had a moment of peace. I had talked to Ross about how no one can ever have 100% happiness with another person. You find the closest match to you that you can and you work hard for the rest. But perfect happiness isn't something to strive for because perfection is impossible. If you're in love and you're lucky you get moments that feel perfect and you can savour them long after they're gone.

And last night as he held me I had a moment. It was a perfect moment. It faded, of course, but I had it. I didn't know anything for sure. I still don't. I can't count on much. But I knew with certainty that Ross loved me and I felt safe again.

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