just a note, future gentleman caller;

long time no talk, future gentleman caller.

like i said before, i really do think i am more than deserving of rugs of verdant greens and fiery crimsons to roll out in front of me.

i’m a twenty year old girl who knows that opened doors aren’t just a relic of old fashioned niceties. i know that appreciative side glances from across crowded rooms are what i deserve. and being walked under the orange lights that always seem to surround bus stops are more than appreciated.

after the episode of last weekend, where i found myself with a lack of these little bits of lovely scattered around, i knew with a searing certainty that your existence was even more plausible.

it seems like it would be the opposite, doesn’t it?

but no, i knew that the rocks in my stomach were even more of an indication that i needed to let what was left to just die off, to suck the poison out, to get rid of the thought process that i was getting the maximum when i really getting the bare minimum.

i know you’re there. i know you’re running furiously towards me, just like my dear emily made it so clear to me.

and i know that the day will come when i can count on a bus-stop companion. and the man who will kiss me and often and with more feeling than i can even imagine at this present moment in time. and a man who could stun me from across a room with that appreciate glance, and who can make my bones buzz just by being in my orbit in that same crowded room. the same man who can make my heart go aflutter, but also make sure i don’t float too high off the ground.

a man who isn’t straight out of a katherine heigl movie, but is better than any idealistic bit of fiction, because he likes faulkner more than what is deemed healthy. and likes only to eat graham crackers with his milk. and sometimes eats the core of an apple when no one is looking. and secretly sings along to showtunes.

who makes me feel lucky in that moment where i too can look at him across the room, with my bones buzzing and say with a rhythm and a cadence, “that one. he’s mine”.

who feels lucky when i sing the bee-gees when i do the dishes, with soapy water up to my elbows.  when i find it hard not to slide across my wooden floors when i wear knee socks. and when i read cookbooks like they are novels. who feels honored when i show him my favorite places.

i guess what i’m getting at, really and truly, future gentleman caller. is that i want someone who deserves me and i deserve as well.

up to my elbows in bubbles, waiting patiently for you,
future ladyfriend.