It had got to a point (well, really, far past that point) where I knew I had to talk to him. Everyday on my drive home I would cry to myself going through the words or emotions. Everyday I told myself that this was it and I had to talk to him but I simply couldn't.

Finally, in a moment of sad desperation I actually reached out to my mom. I sent her an email and confessed that I was really sad, confused and thought it might be time for Jeff and I to break-up. Of course, she was very surprised and she called to discuss my situation. She had no idea I was feeling so low. I suppose, no one did.

I've kept so much inside. First from myself and then from everyone else. Not just Jeff who is the most important of all, but I didn't even share my troubles with my family or friends. I felt like we had been a 'perfect' couple for a long time and I didn't want to break that image. I wanted us to work...it just wasn't for me anymore. I tried to internally fix it but it takes more than one person to fix a relationship but I wasn't even trying to do it the right way.

Shortly after talking to my mom I went to Washington DC to visit my sister. I confessed to her that I was having the same dark feelings about my relationship (that she had caught me stewing in, months before I even moved to Chicago! *gasp*). She seemed saddened by the loss of our relationship but wanted me to be happy (as did my mom) and both felt I was making the right decision to move out and move on if I felt that was where I needed to be.

Two weeks after all of this both my sister and mother couldn't believe I still hadn't talked to Jeff. The fact that I had confessed...and still that didn't spur me to action was all the more embarrassing to me. My anguish about losing my best friend and this huge part of my life was awful, but carrying around the shame of holding all of this in for so long also compounded the situation.

I don't know how I did it but I came home and was going through the motions as always. I was standing in the kitchen with a small wall between where Jeff was sitting behind his computer and I was just....ready. I walked around the corner and told him I needed to talk to him and he followed me into the living room to sit.

I had practiced this conversation so many times, the words rolling around in my head and over my tongue in my long car ride homes from work that it felt very flat. I think I began with my general feeling of sadness and that while it had been helpful to talk (the month back) the sex/intimacy issue had not improved, and I wasn't sure if it ever would. I told him I was worried about signing another lease with him when I felt this way and while it crushed me to say it, I thought maybe the space would be good for us (er, for me).

The air was dead. We kind of just stared at each other and I watched the impact of my words pummel him. He looked completely shocked and overwhelmed but at the same time a bit emotionless. Finally, he slowly gets out the words that over the weekend (when we had been at home, visiting our parents), he had asked my Dad if he could marry me. He told me that he had bought a ring and it was "on it's way" and he was planning on asking me (shortly) and...la,la,la, there's that.

My turn to be surprised. I couldn't believe that he had actually bought a ring. All this time when I never thought it would happen (or didn't predict anything happening for another few years) and here it was right in front of me. He had this wistful look to him, and he told me how he'd been planning on surprising me so big. I know this is something he had talked about....that I would get a proposal when I least expected it.

But, as I softly pointed out, I was in no position to get married. We talked for a little bit more. Me=scared, cautious and fretful and Him=confused, question filled. I could see the gears turning and he starting throwing out questions. I can't think of anything specific now, but it related to the nature of our relationship. I answered them as honestly, but as carefully as I could.

Finally, I could see his world was spinning and he said that he felt like he needed to throw up. He grabbed his coat, keys and walked out the door.

I thought I would feel...relief. Or something? I didn't really feel anything at all. I felt empty and deflated. I didn't know what to do next. For once the idea of food did not sound appealing. I didn't feel like talking to anyone either.

So, I took a walk myself. It felt strange, but I came back and watched some TV, then called my mom. We talked for awhile but I didn't have much to say. If anything, it was more of a courtesy call ("hey, I finally did it..."). I think part of my hesitation is because I find my mom so judgmental. I felt like all along she wasn't completely warm to Jeff, plus my mom is a critical listener. She will tell me what I should of done, or what I need to do now, or question why I did things...when it's too late to do anything about it.

But, she was thankfully kind, supportive and simple. She listened (even when I didn't say much) and told me she loved me, that she was proud of me and that she was there completely for me, whether that meant financial help or if I wanted to come home or if I wanted her to come here. I think, it gave me the opportunity to see how much she cares (even though, I *did* know this all along), and to be grateful that I have parents that do care and worry about me.

Jeff didn't come home until really late. I figured he went to a friends house or something but later learned he just wandered the streets. He was out there for over five hours. I was worried about him and wasn't sure if he would even return. Jeff tends to run or go quiet when things are bothering him.

When he came home he at first slept on the couch but later came to bed. I didn't mind that we were sleeping in the same bed. I didn't want either of us to feel obligated to

---gotta go