I think I sat there for a few minutes just asking myself if I was really going to do this?
Was I seriously contemplating throwing some stuff in a bag, getting in my car and driving to the ferries to go meet this guy?
Apparently I was.
"Can you give me an address?"
"Why, are you coming over?"
"I... think I am."
"Shhh... I don't want to talk about it... I'll... I just.... I'll message you from the ferry" (thank goodness for smartphones, eh?)
I think I just didn't let myself think. Or, at least, I had so little time to get ready and leave, I had to put as much mental power as I had into that process.
Bag. Clothes. Change of clothes, wait, pyjamas! Should I bring a book in case he was jetlagged and wanted a nap the next day? Wait... did that mean I was staying over?
I mean, no time to think, gotta pack. Bag packed.
I mean, I could always sleep on the couch. He's already shown himself to be a good guy and enough of a gentleman that I'm sure if things were uncomfortable, we'd just sleep in separate rooms and say our polite and awkward goodbyes in the morning.
Shoot, I was pushing it for time to get to the ferries, time to text a few friends to let them know, send the address I was going to, that kind of thing, and head out.
They were all super excited for me.
I was freaking out.
But determined to push through.
I wasn't going to let worry/anxiety/fear stop me this time. I was going to do it anyway.
I wasn't going to sit there, overthinking the whole damn thing and weighing out the "what ifs" and all the rest, I was just going to go.
And then I was on the road.