Dear future hubster,
I've expressed the requirement of you being willing to join me in my festival haze, and although I'm not even sure anymore that it has to be you, it never harms to tell you that: 1. If and when said common festival experience of ours happens, I will not look pretty. Well, I will not look pretty when it starts, and will look absolutely destroyed by the end. and 2. There will be extended periods of times when I won't be talking to you. Don't take it personally, that's just how it is.
Actually, it's rather a good thing. The less put together I dare look and the longer I can be not talkative with you, the more comfortable I feel. On the way to intimacy, I guess.