So I drove home from Westfield with my chin quivering and my brain churning. As soon as the radio played Natalie Merchant's "Break Your Heart," I let the tears start. I pulled into the parking space at my apartment and lay against the steering wheel and cried. I knew I had to break off the engagement. "I know that it will hurt/ I know that it will break your heart..."

When I got in the house, there was a message from J. saying he and his friend were coming home early from work to play Playstation. I called the restaurant to tell him to come home as soon as he can, without his friend, because he hurt me and "we need to talk."

Those must be magical words. Now that I think of it, I'd get pretty freaked out if he called me crying and saying those four words. Maybe it's from past relationships, or something more primal than that, where the words are a harbinger of doom.

He was home in 45 minutes.

I told him everything: he's hurt me too much, he knows he hurts me by staying out until 6 a.m. but he does it anyways, I didn't wear my ring all day, I'm so in love with him but he needs to figure out where he's going with his life. His reasons were valid, if a little on the emotionally unstable side. He's lonely out here and needs to find friends, and when he does find friends, he wants to spend as much time with them as possible. (I wish he felt that way about me.) In the same breath he says I'm his best friend. He knows he hurts me and does not mean to do it. He doesn't know why he does it. And he's sorry.

We talked for about an hour, eventually asking, "What do we do?" Those other magical words that I've heard at the end of relationships. The thing is, it feels completely natural to be engaged to him. Natural or comfortable, either one. And, like a friend of mine said, since our communication level is so healthy, it doesn't matter what the problems in a relationship are.

It felt good to simply hold his hand and kiss him. And today I took a personal day so that we could drive to Newport together to pick up some things he needs for his Dress Blues (Marine Corps stuff).

For now, everything is resolved and we've started again. He didn't make me any promises, except to go to councelling. And I promised I would step back and stop trying to fix him. Damn, 22 years of learning that from my parents has to be completely erased.

J. isn't the only one who needs "fixing" in the house. The cat Caesar is about to jump out of his skin with how horny he is and nothing to do about it. He circles the apartment at high speeds "meowolling" from couch-top to couch-top. Tuesday, his balls are no longer his.

I wish it was that easy.

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