Man of my Dreams

Dear Future Husband,

I was thinking about you again last night, wondering how you were doing. It is strange to think that you are out there somewhere, living your life, going about your business just like I am. I could already know you, or you could be a complete stranger, but I like to think about you and hope that you are happy and doing well. I wonder if you ever think about me? Not about me specifically, but the idea of who you want me to be, how you see our lives together. I have come to believe that the more I think about you and dream about what I want you to be, the faster I will find you—draw us to each other.

I know you are a smart, kind and caring man. I know that you are funny and witty—you have a sharp and quick sense of humor just like I do. I know that you can appreciate the finer things in life, like good wine and powerful music and classic literature, but that you can still tilt back your head and sing along to the latest top 40 crap and enjoy the simple, uncomplicated side of life too. I know that you will always be there to listen to me, to be willing to hear every rambling story, every complicated emotion. I hope that when we meet you will free some of the thoughts that are tumbling around in my head. I think they are waiting for you, waiting for the right person to share them with. I know you will be able to take care of me, but also be someone who will let me take care of him. I know our love and our lives will be completely balanced and I will never again have to feel like a burden to the ones I love—needing too much, feeling too deeply, caring too intensely, because our feelings for each other will be equal. Our understanding of each other’s needs, desires, fears, and dreams will be in sync so completely that neither of us will have to wonder again. I will never doubt your love and you will never have to doubt mine. You will be my best friend, my solid ground, but you won’t take yourself too seriously—it is, as they say, only life after all.

You love dogs of course, and traveling too, and you definitely aren’t someone that minds getting your hands dirty trying new things. You aren’t too sentimental, but you understand when it counts. Like me, I know you are looking for a partner in crime, someone to complete your life. We will love and laugh like never before and I will never want for that again. Our lives will be full, but simple, uncomplicated and complete. I cannot wait to meet you, I cannot wait to share you with my family and friends. I know they will be so proud of you, I already am. I cannot wait to know how you will make me feel.

I didn’t use to believe you existed. I didn’t think I deserved you, but I am changing and growing and learning like never before and now I cannot believe that I ever doubted you. I know it might be a while before we actually meet, but I am here, I am ready, I am waiting for that moment every single day. I am so excited and I already love you, I just can’t wait to show you how much.

A wordy start

During a job interview, for what would become one of the worst jobs I ever had, my boss-t0-be asked me if I was a morning person. I started spewing off some typical interview appropriate answer about how I would prefer to sleep in, but can certainly be bright eyed enough to get the job done in the mornings. She quickly cut me off--something I would soon come to recognize as her general M.O. for dealing with us, her lowly employees--and asked quite pointedly, "but would you say you are loquacious?" I was caught off guard, mostly because the question itself seemed so deliberate, and I didn't quite know why. My learning kicked in and I responded with something along the lines of, "no, I wouldn't say I am a particularly chatty person in the mornings" which seemed to satisfy her. After I got the job, my coworker informed me that it was a test: anyone who didn't know what loquacious meant was automatically disqualified for the job--at a mortgage company, mind you, certainly not a place that requires a particularly evolved vocabulary.

So no, loquacious I am not, but if there was a single word to describe long-windedness in the written form, well yeah, that's me. Email-quacious?

Words seem to be constantly tumbling around in my brain, forming sentences that I roll across my tongue obsessively until I can write them out. Or more specifically type then. I swear the invention of the email was the first form of therapy I ever really experienced. I have been accused a time or two, by more than one friend, of having disturbingly long, marathon email writing skills. So it's time to harness those words and turn them into something more. Something important and real and meaningful. This will hopefully become a practice arena for some of my stories and thoughts. Sometimes nothing more than a word or a sentence that will not leave me alone, that needs to be written and shared. And if they are lucky, a burden removed from some inboxes heavy with my words.

I have no fiction in me. My stories are based on my own real life experiences. Emotional flashpoints in my life that cannot be expressed in any other way. Personal, funny, touching, and real. Maybe to no one else but me.

Oh and that job? Ancient history. The boss? Pretentious and rude, but that's story for another day.