This morning, as I sat in the back room, eating a donut, my cellphone began to ring. It was my boyfriend, with unusually good timing. We greeted each other, I happily remarked that he’d caught me on my break, he told me he’d been talking with his brother.
And that’s when he asked if I’d like to move in with him, to his parent’s house in Florida.
I’ve read descriptions of people in love saying “It took my breath away!”, but this would be the first time I’d ever experienced it for myself. I couldn’t breathe, my heart raced, I could feel myself blushing. I’ve wanted to live with him for two years now, but I’ve long since resigned myself to the occasional visit. I thought, in a couple of years, maybe.
I spent the next three hours practically hyperventilating. My hands shook, I could barely breathe, and I was smiling like a loon.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, and I said yes because goddamit I really want to be with this guy! But the more I think about it, the more nervous I get. What about college? My dream school is here, in NH. What about insurance, about jobs? How would I get down there? What if I turn out to be horrible! What if I get homesick! What if I hate it there!
So now I’m in a legitimate tizzy, and I have no idea what to do. I want to be with him, but this is a genuinely terrifying step to take.