They cannot control us...

At this time tomorrow... I'll still be at work, sitting at this desk. Glaring at the phone.

However, at this time on Friday, I'll be in New York.

Which is, needless to say, exciting. For me, at least. My first time in the NE quadrant of the US. I've left some of my travel a bit up in the air, so I'm more likely to go and explore and make myself conquer this fear that, when I am forced to address it, I cannot take care of myself.

Which you think, at my age, I'd know that I could.

But my fairly steady stream of relationships have left my twenties (what I have experienced of them thus far) partnered up, working as a team, knowing I have that person to fall back on. Traveling with another.

I prefer to travel by myself.

My mother hates it. My sister is going to Japan in two weeks and she's going with a large group of coworkers and they have all these plans and schedules and everything's worked out.

But me? I booked this trip by myself, did not bother to invite anyone, have two concerts I am planning on going to and... that's about it. I found a rare and used bookstore by my hotel, so I'm going to go there, of course and... yes. Wing it. I'm spending Friday night at a friend's place, a man I met through my other blog. Haven't met him before, but... eh. In the total of my interneting, I've probably met up with 100-200 internet-based people, possibly more. I've had four bad experiences, and even those were managable.

I like how I typed "two", thought for a second, deleted it, changed it to "three", started typing and was like... "oh." So it currently says "four". If it's different when you read it, I've remembered someone else unpleasant.

Anyhow, it'll be a good trip. Wander around, take the subway, take the Amtrak, bus, walk a lot, see what there is to see and who I meet, as I always end up talking to strangers (if I'm not reading, that is).

GV8 is taking me to the airport on Thursday.

I'm finding more and more the word "love" is floating around the inside of my skull.

Definitions of. Remembering people telling me of how they knew they were in love, asking me what I thought love was, if I thought they were in love. What love means to me, what it means to others, the different types of love.

Driving my car in the high winds we've been having, speeding down smooth asphault, wondering if this is love. Comparing this feeling I have growing inside me, something foreign and unexpected, to previous experiences.

Knowing that in my last relationship, it took me over a year and a half to fall in love with my partner, and even then I knew it was not love, not really. Love for him, yes. But in love with him? No. Ripping two souls apart when separated love? Hardly. He was so bitter about that, that he was "in love" with me within a few months, but it took me so long.

I never understood that.

Bitter about not being loved by someone you return?

There's no guarantee, you don't get a receipt.

30 day exchange policy if you aren't satisfied with what you've been given in response to your emotional devotion?

That really wrecked us. He told me so, later. But I warned him in advance. I told him he was a rebound. I told him I wasn't over my last boyfriend and he would need to give me time to get over that man and into him. He said he understood.

But he understood so little.

And now we move on.

The wind rocked my car, and I thought. I got lost in a maze of apartment buildings clustered around a local community college, headlights leading me nowhere.

Then I realized how I would know if I was truly in love.

How badly it would wreck me if he left me.

How out of my skull I would be if he called me and told me he was done.

And if that pain would be caused by the rejection and the insecurity, or if it would be due to him being out of my life.

Then I realized that I would be hurt, that the rebound and the validity-sex I would likely engage in would last for two or three months, maybe more, maybe four. And that would be due to insecurity.

I realized I would miss the lifestyle and the opportunities being with him gives me.

And I would be shattered at the thought that because I have realized my need to feel safe, to have a man with control and power, it would be highly unlikely that I would be able to find someone else suitable. He is a man that I have never seen the like.

Knowing what would be lost to me, knowing that it would take years to find someone to make me feel as safe as he does, or to make myself feel safe, to learn that confidence, that ability, that self-protection... still, years.

I would miss him. I would miss the warmth, the strength, the self-realization he engages in without thought. The caring, the little gifts that I don't need but allay my more than somewhat occasional bouts of self-doubt when it comes to him and his desire for me.

I am falling for him.

But I'm not there yet.

I feel like I should warn him. We weren't sure if this was part of the program.

...but it seems so cold, detached, and analytical to say to him, "Hey, I'm starting to fall for you, so tell me now if that's a bad idea."

The heartbreak I'm not worried about. Sitting somewhere, wrecked and able to function through your day because you've been there so many times before this auto-pilot switches on without thought, with barest effort. You get through it because time doesn't stop, because life doesn't stop.

You can cry later.

The blows to the ego, though, the blows to the self-concept and the growing confidence that is so shaky on its feet... that's what causes me worry.

But, as we've learned, I do love a good trial by fire.