blue ridge mountains circa summer 2009
*this post was brought to you by the fact that i listened to too much mumford and sons this morning and thus got extremely sentimental.
dear future gentleman caller,
i know you’re out there. i know you’re not just a kennel full of cats, like some of my friends joke about. i know it i know it i know it.
i know you’re out there, celebrating christmas with your family. giving noogies to your younger brother and last minute christmas shopping. sloppily gift-wrapping, and slapping on a shiny bow just for good measure.
not to insult you, but despite all of this knowledge of mine, i’m not looking for you. i don’t search for your face in crowds, in facebook pictures of my friends.
really and truly. because i know you’re there, and each day the universe and the cosmos and that big man upstairs brings us at least a few inches closer. or possibly you’re right under my nose and i’ve just not noticed it yet (in which case touche, god).
and that’s enough for me. the knowledge that you are out there is enough to make my eager eyes simmer down a bit. that and the daydreams of things and events i cannot wait to experience. hopefully this doesn’t creep you out. but then again, if you find me endearing in any shape or form, you will have had to have found my awkward creepiness endearingly precious….hopefully:
i can’t wait to be your biggest fan. cheering you on at church softball games, when you slide into first base like the meek, oh-so humble show-off i expect you to be at times (or endearingly douche-baggy) . and the same from you. as i stand on any stage, whatever performance art i choose to pursue (or all of them, i do have that goal of being a ‘jill-of-all-trades’ after all). and if i do choose all of them, i do solemnly apologize for the lack of space in your schedule, and the loss of your voice from cheering me on.
i can’t wait for you to be interrogated by my brother. i’m sorry. this is just the secret sadist in me. and i just know this will be an incredible sight to behold. and i’m not going to lie, he might corner you in a dark room, with only a flashlight in his had and ask you what your whereabouts were on november 24th, 2007 at 8 pm.
i can’t wait for us to go to the mountains, the blue ridge mountains preferably. throwing snow in your face and running away coyly. but then waking up the next morning for snow in my boots. thanks a lot, douchebag.
oh man, and france. and montreal. and san francisco. remind me that we need to go to normandy and see mont st. michel. this is very important to the future of our relationship, i can assure you.
and though it sucks to be single during the holiday seasons for most people, i find it freeing. because i’m not with someone for the sake of having someone to drink silk soy milk nog with. or shop for presents with. or have someone to sit with me at christmas eve mass at midnight. all of those things would be nice, but not important.
and besides, you’re too busy giving noogies to your younger siblings. and i’m too busy watching “bedknobs and broomsticks” with my mother on christmas night under my hot pink snuggie blanket with sleeves.
and i know that on that christmas, we will have a fight about what is the best christmas song ever made (it’s ‘hard candy christmas’ by dolly parton, by the way. ‘last christmas’ by wham is a close second, but nothing comes close to d-parts). and when we do have that christmas in the mountains, please don’t put too much snow in my boots.
because i will, i repeat, I WILL, make sure an epic snowball will find its way square between your eyes. point blank. i take no prisoners, buddy-boy.
and that’s my way of saying merry christmas to you. enjoy your day, boy. and i will mine. as i know that it has me inching my way closer to your noogie-giving self.
and that’s enough for me.
sincerely,
me.
currently listening to ‘the cave’// mumford and sons
Tagged: boys, confessions, creep, dear future husband, dork, future, letters
