How much do you really love me?

My dear, I love you more than mere words can express. My love for you is as boundless as a child's imagination, as true as the hardest scientific fact. It wells up from within my soul and pools in my heart which beats nothing but sincere enamor for your being. I worship the ground upon which you walk. I covet the air that you exhale. To speak with you is to live, really live, instead of being a shell of a person that waits for you to fill the empty space within. To be sure, I would love you forever even if you spurned my affection, but you have responded to my love in kind which sends me soaring above the clouds in ultimate elation and exuberance. I can be nothing but thankful for and humbled by your love, however, I wonder if it is as true and steadfast as mine. For example, say we were in a restaurant kitchen after hours and were surprised by a burgular. Say that burgular was able to lock us in the meat freezer overnight. Would you pound at the door and try to get help, or would you sit with me and confess your feelings, allowing our combined body warmth to sustain us until the restaurant opened for business?
I know it is asking a lot, but I need to know where I stand before I give away any more of my fragile heart. Suppose I had to go into an apartment building's basement storage locker to get something, and you came with me. Suppose that the door to the storage locker swung closed while we were inside, locking us in. Would you spend all of your time trying to pry the door open, or get someone's attention, or otherwise be wrapped up in your own comfort, or would you reminisce with me about days gone by, trading anecdotes and tales from which we learned how to laugh, live...and love? Would you accept our situation as an opportunity to strengthen the bond between us that means so much to me? Would it matter to you if I was wearing a Superman costume?
Yes, the road of life can be winding and difficult, and it is important to me that you are committed to remaining with me as I am to you. This is why I must ask: if we were taking an elevator in a high-rise building, and there was an electrical malfunction that caused it to stop between floors, would you use the emergency exit in the ceiling to get to safety, or would you huddle with me on the floor and talk about fun days in our recent past? I am not asking for you to die with me, I am merely asking that you abide with me in times of need, and to use these times to run down a "clip show episode" of our lives. Because if you cannot do that, my dear, then I fear that we are not to be. It means that we must tie up all loose ends and have our finale episode. And while I might be amenable to a long-term syndication of our relationship, you and I both know it will never be quite the same as the first-run.