(Believe me, I rarely have even a small dilemma in my life, so this is huger than huge!)
Peter emailed me late last night that I should come to San Francisco for the weekend! So, with a little more than 24 hours notice, I should change my holiday plans (sorry boys and girls!), get in a car and drive for more than six hours and then meet someone for the first time in my life before I've even had a chance to brush my teeth, spend about 48 hours with him and his son (at his house, I presume?!), then after it's over drive back to prepare for work on Monday.
And in the meantime, I would need to hit the gym, tan, pick out clothes for the weekend, do something about the three in-grown pubic hairs that are screwing up my bikini line and get my hair to grow out a half inch to its perfect length.
(Yes, I'm vain. Yes, I'm obsessive/compulsive about meeting someone for the first time. I admit it.)
And after I accomplish the above, I'll have six or seven hours alone in the car to imagine whether we'll actually like each other when we meet face-to-face. Will we be attracted? Will we end up in bed? And if we end up in bed, will we be sexually compatible? (Does he realize I like to get my own way, and will it distract him that I talk a lot--I mean chatter nearly the whole time and go into detail about every little thing I'm feeling?)
Okay, this is waaay too much information. This is more than I want to reveal in this journal about me and about my life. But for God's sake--much of our relationship has been about this journal!
So, he'll probably read this before he reads my reply. And he'll raise his eyebrow and maybe smile or chuckle, or he'll shake his head in disgust. And for at least the next few hours, I'm going to imagine him having that totally Simon Cowell thing going--superior and amused.
Because I really want to go. I just don't know if I should.