Panic-Attacks

Nothing too terribly notable happened this weekend. Well, unless you count the Minimalist and I getting within a hair (or two) of defining what we’re doing as notable.

Before you pull out the tickertape and noisemakers, let me rain on your parade a bit.

No, we are not in any way officially doing anything. We are still (and will be for the foreseeable future) “whatevering.” Unfortunately for some, FaceSpace doesn’t have that as an option, so we can’t even officially do that.

There are no babies or weddings or promise rings in the future.

What is in the future, the very near future, is what prompted this occurrence…

Summer.

Dorms close May 6. My freshman year ends May 6. That means May 6 I pack up my little toy car with all the belongings I’m not putting into storage and drive the 7 hours back to my Dirty Dirty “home” (that is hopefully not as dirty now that the mold problem is supposedly taken care of). May 6 is the day I leave the life and friends I have spent so many months adapting to and enjoying. May 6 is the day it all changes. Or actually, goes back to how it was.

Moral of the story: May 6 is a huge day.

And it’s only 24 days away.

This realization has been giving me multiple mini-panic attacks everyday for the past week. Some of those attacks have been based on the knowledge that without anything official or declared there is nothing to hold the Minimalist and my place as we live out these sweltering months separately.

So Friday night, after an evening full of debauchery, when we were sitting on his bed the Minimalist noticed something wasn’t quite right. Immediately he guessed what was weighing on my mind which tells me A) how well he knows me (scary thought) and B) that he’s been thinking about it, too (possibly even scarier).

The talk went well. It was wonderfully unemotional and completely lacking in awkwardness. The verdict:

We like each other. And we are going to (somehow, someway) see each other over the summer. No concrete plans yet on how that’ll happen, but we decided it will, so it will.

I know this isn’t quite earth shattering, but it’s a big step for him and I. Agreeing to see each other over the break means agreeing to plan in advance. It means expectations.

That scares me. Hell, everything scares me right now:

Finals, the end of ¼ of college, going home and finding what’s left of my old life there, jobs, internships, responsibilities.

Basically, I’m about a step away from curling up in the fetal position with my baby blanket (which I did bring to college).

Welcome to adulthood?