Chocolate Covered Sunshine

I'm up late (or early, depending on your time zone) working on a project for work. It's a project that we've been working on for 1450 years, give or take a decade. Being awake when the rest of the world is asleep brings curious results. I've noticed how quiet the highway gets at this time of night. I've noticed that I have no willpower against the chocolate covered cranberries in my cupboard. I've noticed that while I *heart* my job, I can't help but day (night) dream about running away to the ocean and selling tacky tourist souvenirs.

I've also noticed that try as I might, my brain keeps straying to thoughts about Ace. Specifically, what to do about him. I'm nuttier than a Snickers bar over that man. But. (There's the but.) Now's about the time when things get difficult. Seven+ months in. My hetero man friend at work just broke up with his girlfriend of nine months because of unresolvable differences. He said it had been brewing for a few months.

Part of me wants to work through these difficulties because of the aforementioned nuttiness and affection. I adore so many things about him: He makes me giggle. He makes me melt. He makes me try new things. He makes me think I made the right choice.

But. (ah, there it is again)

Part of me doesn't want to be trapped in another relationship that one day I'll wake up, 15 years later, and wonder what the hell happened to me. The big difference then will be that I'll be 50 instead of 35. It's much harder to start over at 50 than at 35. (It was hard enough to start over at 35. I'm immensely proud of myself for not only being able to kill mice on my own, but be able to stay out of collections because I can pay my bills online. These are two skills little me didn't possess just 8 short months ago.) There are a number of things I can't stand about us: He makes me cry sometimes. He makes me wonder if it's not him, but me. He makes me feel like I've learned nothing from my failed marriage about sharing my feelings. (Yes, I know men hate the f-word.)

But. (this time for a good reason)

When I'm with him, when things are good between us, there's no other place I want to be or person I want to be with. When I'm not with him, even when times aren't good between us, I only want to be with him. I think about things I would have never thought of before I met him, like my previously-mentioned disdain for children. He's almost got me convinced that they'd make good day laborers. Almost.

But. (last time, promise)

It's far too dangerous to be thinking about this at 1:30 a.m. Especially when I've got work to do. And sleep to undertake.