When I was single I liked dating, for the most part, but the idea of having found someone I want to be with forever ever just feels so incredible.
I was thinking recently how much I love Nick, and how lucky I feel to have found him. And how happy I am about the idea of never going on a first date again.
And then I started thinking, you know, if for some reason this doesn't work out with him, maybe the universe doesn't mean for me to be with someone. I think this is it, and if it isn't, maybe I should just give up on romance and focus on something else.
I told this to Nick.
I said, "You know, if for some reason we don't work out, I'm giving up on romance entirely. I'm going to move somewhere like Italy or Finland or Holland - somewhere with really cool design - and go to school and just throw myself into a design career."
"But we are going to work out. I'm not going anywhere."
"Well, yeah, I know you aren't going to leave me. But you could still die in a fiery car crash or a weird blimp accident or something."
"You're sitting around thinking about me dying in a weird blimp accident?"
"No! Well, yes. It could happen. And then I'd be done with romance."
Clearly the "I love you more than anything" intention didn't come across.
A few hours later, however, he said, out of the blue, "I guess it's flattering. I mean, you are essentially saying you'd give up on men after me."
"I still wish you'd stop imagining me in dramatic and tragic accidents."
"OK. I'll stop."
"I do have life insurance, though."
"That's good. Design school is expensive."