And thinking too easily leads to sadness because of possibilities, inevitabilities, and everything in between. 

But I realized something tonight, something that I’m not sure if it’s really profound or just really obvious. What I realized is this: I’m absolutely terrified we won’t be together in the fall (which, at this point, seems like an inevitability), but while I’m scared he won’t want me, I’ve given no thought at all to me not wanting him. And the possibly profound bit is, maybe he feels the same.

Well, maybe not the same, per se, because I’m fairly certain he knows I’m not just going to stop wanting him. He’s my first, for so many thing: my first kiss, my first boyfriend (even though we never actually did label it, and I was always awkwardly introduced by others as “S’s gir-, uh, his friend”), and, if things go well in the fall, he’ll more than likely be my first, if you know what I mean. But what I realized is that while perhaps he isn’t afraid of me not wanting him, he might feel the same in that he’s given no thought to him not wanting me.

It was the same when I first met him; after weeks of build-up, when we were finally introduced all I could think was that maybe he wouldn’t like me (maybe the introduction request had been due to intoxication and dark lighting, something he’d soon regret), and I never even entertained the thought that maybe he wouldn’t be the type of guy for me. And look where we ended up.

I don’t know what this says about me. Maybe it’s a testament to my insecurities (which he’s glimpsed, and tries to remedy by greeting me with “beautiful” and “pretty lady” — excuse me while I melt). Maybe everyone feels this way, and this is actually a profound realization, wisdom before my time. But regardless of what it is, I guess I should just try to relax. I don’t foresee myself getting over him anytime soon, and maybe, just maybe, he feels the same.

I should just let summer take its course and hope for the best come September. But three months is an awfully long time.