today's news: committment catches up with law student; love finds a procedure

So, my girlfriend and I are trying to refinance my house together. Yes, I'm making a huge committment. Shutup. I'm trying not to think about it too much before I run screaming in fear to somewhere stupid, like the drunken arms of some cute girl in another state. This is the kind of thing that is by no means romantic, or sexy, or fun really, but says a lot about your day to day committment to a relationship - which, in its own way is really romantic. The lender tried to tell me she'd have to be on the deed for six months first, but did not realize they were fucking with a law student who has an internship at an all gay firm. I called back two hours later and said I had reasearched the law, they were wrong about it, I had three other lenders ready to do what I wanted and they could put my girl on the deed or I'd take my business elsewhere. Needless to say now she's going on there. Dammit, I might be terrified of committment but it won't be some banker telling me I can't make one.

I don't know why committment scares me so much. In the past I've always chosen crazy women because then I could play at being in love but know there was an "out" door and it was just a matter of time. Yes, I figured that out in therapy. Again, shut up. Anyway, this time I have somehow managed to get into something all healthy and great and sexy and easy with someone who thinks I'm smart and funny and beautiful. I swear it was an accident.

I'm happy, don't get me wrong, and grateful, I'm just scared shitless. Now I don't have an excuse for running away and I don't really want to and it's, well, kind of weird. I have to show up and put up or live the rest of my life kicking myself for being a stupid asshole. She's patient, and that's a good thing. And I've developed the ability to not throw up when making a major relationship move comes up, which is also good, because that's just not conducive to having a mature conversation. And dammit I love her, enough to fight a banker apparently, and to quit throwing up, and to sign things and write poems and plant stuff and check her cat's ass for worms. What has happened to me? Unfortunately for her she doesn't realize yet the unspoken cost of living with a lawyer: we will argue, I will win, you will pay. Maybe it's her who should be afraid. In the meantime, ain't love grand?