living in reverse

I've known for some time that I am a late-bloomer. Given the events of the past few months, it has even felt like I am living in reverse. This statement is vague, I realize, but it is in reference to the recent boom in romantic intrigue in my life. There's one story in particular, which is the primary inspiration for this living-in-reverse assertion, that I'd like to share.
I have had the past three weeks off of school and have taken advantage of the time off to the fullest by travelling. My first stop was Barcelona, which is an incredible, incredible city. My second stop was Karslruhe, Germany. Clearly less renowned and spectacular than Barcelona, but just as important, as dear, dear friends from Germany version 1.0 live there. After my trip to Spain, I returned to Hamburg for a few days to have dinner with friends and do laundry before hitting the road again for another two weeks. There is a ride share system in Germany (called Mitfahrgelegenheit), which is mostly convenient and much more affordable than the trains. Rides can, however, not work out for a number of reasons, most of which have to do with people being unreliable or slightly unhinged. I was supposed to leave on a Sunday for Karlsruhe, but it ended up falling through because the driver couldn't get his shit together. I contacted my friend to let her know I wouldn't be able to make it out that day, and she was kind enough to find another ride for me leaving the following day at 11.
Our meeting point was a gas station close to the Feldstrasse subway stop. I was a little stressed when I arrived because I was 10 minutes late, and after having waited myself for over 2 hours at the central train station the previous day, I didn't want to return the favor to my new ride. The driver greeted me, shook my hand and let me know we were still waiting for his sister, the final Mitfahrer, to arrive. The other rider was there when I showed up, punctual and slightly aloof, but cute nonetheless. We didn't really speak to each other, and I assumed that it might remain as such for the up-coming 6-7 hours of the drive. I took the opportunity to use the restroom while we waited for the final rider. When I came out, she had arrived and we were preparing to depart. As I approached the car, I said aloud to no one in particular, "That was disgusting."
Much to my surprise, my backseat partner, addressed me and asked, "The bathroom, you mean?"
"Ja," I responded.
We set off with the siblings in the front seat talking back and forth about family stuff, more than likely. The driver asked me my relationship to the two cities, Hamburg and Karlsruhe. I said that I lived and worked as a foreign language assistant in Hamburg and that I was going to Karlsruhe to visit friends. After the niceties, we continued south-bound with brother and sister catch-up in the front and silence in the back. I couldn't help but sneak sideways glances at the hotty sitting next to me in the backseat. I spied as much as I could from the neck down and thought, "You are killing me with those hands and forearms." It sounds weird, I know, but I'm a sucker for both. After driving for what felt like ages, we stopped at a rest-stop to use the restroom and get food. Being that I was SUPER broke, I didn't join the rest of the Mitfahrer at Burger King, but rather scrounged some change together and ate a bag of bell pepper flavored chips by myself in a comfy, leather seat at the front of the building. I sat facing people exiting BK, so I wouldn't miss my fellow travelers. Cutie from the backseat was the first to exit. He saw me and start flagging his arms forward, as if to say, move your shit, we gotta go! I fell for it, gathered my belongings and shot up out of the chair. With a look of concern, I asked, "Is everyone finished?"
"Yeah, of course. They've already left," he answered with a bright smirk. My worry broke, I chuckled and joined him on the walk to the car. "Weren't you hungry," he asked.
"No, it wasn't that," I replied and held up the crumpled bag of chips as evidence. "I'm just mega broke right now."
"It happens," he said with a comforting tone.
Back in the car, he struck up a more in-depth conversation. He asked me where I was from, what I did as a foreign language teaching assistant, how I liked Hamburg. I found out he was a teacher at a high school in the south and that he was funny and mischievous. The conversation ceased almost as suddenly as it had began, and our heads began to nod as we both faded off into sleep. I had placed my hand on the seat in between the both of us and found myself leaning slightly to the middle, toward my dozing fellow traveler. He must have been doing the same, since our shoulders and arms were brushing and eventually full-on touching. I worried that I was encroaching on his personal space, so I leaned closer to the window to get out of his bubble. I felt a light pressure on the tips of my fingers and thought maybe he was one of those sleepers who tosses and turns and that his thigh had accidentally landed on my hand (which makes no sense at all, now that I've seen it in print). The light pressure moved over more of my hand and, thinking it curious, I peeked my eyes open to see that it was in fact not his thigh, but his hand reaching out to grab mine. A shock of warmth and electricity washed over me as I welcomed the advance. "Whoa! Sexy Mitfahr," I thought. "What the hell is going on?!"
It was at this point, when I was caressing and holding hands in the backseat of a car like a teenager, that it occurred to me I might be living my life in reverse. When I was a girl, hell even a year ago, if someone had told me that my dance card would be full (and a geography lesson, at that) I would have assumed they were talking about someone else. Someone who is not me. Now that I think about it though, I think I really am someone else. Or, I am not the person I have a tendency to think I am. Or maybe I'm not the person I thought I was. At any rate, what little time I've spent in Germany -- version 2.0 -- has completely changed (is completely changing) what I thought I knew about myself. I'm excited about the changes, to see how they will stir things up in my life and how everything will reconfigure once I find a place to settle down. I'm also excited, because I feel like I am on the verge of something . . . on a precipice. I feel like there's something, rather many somethings, major and remarkable on my horizon.