Every Sunday I look forward to my one day a week with Andrew. On this one day, we might go to Disneyland, run errands, and/or watch television programs. Lately, like the past year, I have been talking a lot about weddings and marriage because I really want to go get married. I genuinely want to start our future together, soon. Also, I’m turning 32 years old and internally I am scared shitless about becoming this crazy cat lady (but with dogs).


I’ve tried a few times to talk about “hey! what do you think about this?” but it mostly ends with a brush off and that sucks. The idea of marriage doesn’t scare me as much as the idea of being alone forever, unwanted. Hell the idea of divorce isn’t so bad either. For me, divorce is a oops I made a mistake or damn, we really, really tried to make it work and we just couldn’t. What scares me the most is the thought of being not good enough or as my grandfather would say, nadie la quiere. No one wants her. Yeah… I have really weird abandonment issues. I’m working on it.

The longer I go without even having a let’s move in together conversation, let’s get married conversation, let’s establish relationship goals conversations, the more I get insecure. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking insecure I don’t need to add more to the mix. My insecurity still steams from my relationship with Kevin and it sucks. I work on it biweekly due to my insistence on therapy. 

I do know the things that I don’t want. I don’t want to be with a partner for eight years and still not have a real conversation. I don’t want to be broken up with at year six because I am ready to move forward and my partner isn’t. I don’t want to settle for the rest of my life for one day a week. 


I never rarely pictured myself married to Kevin. It wasn’t pretty. I felt very uncertain during our relationship and most of the time, I questioned why it was still going. I’m 100% sure he was asking himself the exact same thing. I still remember our last fight, vividly, with him telling me that he didn’t want to marry me and me crying (about being pregnant) and telling him well I didn’t want to marry him either. I think back to that and get really sad not because we said that to each other but because it took us eight years to acknowledge. I wasted my 20s being miserable.

I don’t want to waste my 30s. I picture myself married to Andrew. In fact, I want to rush things. Like all the time. If I could, I would have gotten married a year ago but obviously, you know, it’s a relationship. We have to compromise. And I get it I really do. I’m more of a risk taker. I know that marriage isn’t a guarantee to happiness and I also know that a wedding isn’t your happily ever after. I know that for relationships to succeed it’s hard work, like freaking hard work. And I’m ready to work hard. I want to work hard.

Recently, Andrew did ask me about moving in together, at least I think so. It was a casual, “hey, if I bought a house, could you pay $700 of the rent?”


I can’t! I can’t afford to give him $700!? What the fuck… is wrong with me that I can’t afford $700. And I fell into a quick panic attack.  I am not a great cook (I don’t meet his expectations and I feel uncomfortable around a kitchen), I am not very clean (I don’t meet his expectations), and I can’t even pay for my own housing. I’m about to quit my job and my profession of 10 years with no back up plan. Well I’ll be in school BUT no back up work plan. 

FUCK, I have nothing of substance to offer. There would be no tangible benefit to live together because at the end of the day, how do I adult? The amount of times I run into the wall like a child learning how to walk… it’s alarming. How I am not dead yet? There isn’t much that I can contribute in terms of relationship material. I don’t want to be dependent on him. I don’t want to ask him for money. I have a small amount in my bank account to keep my bills up to date for six months but no plan afterwards.

And so I panic, quietly, or not so quietly since I am blogging about it, while I plan my imaginary wedding.