2002-02-03 - 2:35 p.m.

And you know, I really am not ready to leave this apartment. I love this place fiercely, both for its neighborhood and charm, and for what it represents to me. This is the first place in my adult life that is really truly mine. This is where I cut my ties, and licked my wounds, and made my own way. The place that I decorated with only things that moved me. The place where I learned to write again. I sit here, at my mosaic table, in the wrought iron chairs that I found unexpectedly, covered in cushions that I bought at Pottery B@rn in SEATTLE and had shipped here because I never had time to shop in NY. I look to the kitchen window and see the glass lanterns hanging in the window, from chains I bought at the hardware store on Bleecker Street. The blinds are up, and I can see the bare branches of a tree, and my fire escape railing, and the sun glinting off the building across the street. I love it here, it's perfect for me, and I feel like it took me sooooo long to get here.

I also know that my fears of intimacy are at work, and that in any situation of emotional vulnerability, I cling to what is familiar, what feels safe. I realized today that the boyfriend is committed to the idea of us, that he feels that we're meant to be together, and that he's in for the long haul. He tells me this regularly, of course, but that doesn't mean I can hear it. I am more fearful. I asked him last night if I could take all my girls up to his house for a weekend when he's away, and he sat up and looked at me. "Of course you can. Why do you ask me like that? That's our house, you can do whatever you want to." This morning we were walking down Cornelia Street and were talking about dogs. I always tease that he wants some fou-fou little city dog, and I will not stand for a cat-dog under any circumstances. I'm a mutt girl, myself. So I said something about him getting a Papillon, and he said, "We. We are going to get the dog, and it's going to be a mongrel. Half Rottweiler, half Papillon." I think it's the right thing. I believe he'll do the work, we'll do the work. And I know I can't drag my feet forever. I do want to live with him, but I don't want to give this up.

But, you know, there's a compromise. It's called sublet.

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