That said, I am coming up on a time in my relationship that is figuring very prominently in my brain.

Three months.

In many regards three months is a relatively inconsequential time frame. One quarter of the year. One season, if traditional seasonal explanations are to be believed. It passes so quickly that at times it’s hard to believe that twelve weeks of a year have just melted away.

Three months is how long I have dated nearly any guy over the course of the last near-decade. Three months is how long it took for them to go, “Um, yeah….nevermind. See ya.” That’s quite the confidence killer, by the way.

Make no mistake about it. My relationship is not ending. Conversations I have had with GCB indicate we’ve got quite a long relationship ahead of us, and I couldn’t be happier about that. Seriously. I think some of my friends are getting weary of hearing me reference that.

It’s not that I am worried, just….cognizant of the time frame.

That must seem absolutely crazy.

Past history makes me aware of this, for lack of a better word, milestone. However, the feelings I have for GCB are palpable. Sometimes my breath is taken away by certain reminders of just how much I love him, and those feelings become stronger every single day.

So why is this weighing on me? I think it in part has to do with a conversation he and I had a while back, wherein he was detailing some things about his job that I know had an outward effect on me. My exterior showed just a slight glimpse of the turmoil inside as I processed tried to process everything I was hearing. However, there was one thing that I knew, KNEW in those moments that kind of terrifies me.

I will not be ok if he does not come home to me.

Perhaps that’s part of why this three month thing is there. Three months has been this glass ceiling, if you will, a time frame I’ve been incapable of surpassing in close to a third of my life. I have no doubt, however, that this time there won’t be resistance. Hell, I’m not even worried about getting past three years. I know he will choose to come home to me.

I know it’s odd to even think about, but I still just want to get past that mark and carry on.