Dear Future Somebody,
As I’m writing this to you, I can’t picture who you are or what you look like. I don’t know when we’re going to meet or how long we’ll be together or how I will know that you’re The One but there are a few things that I hope will be true about you…
I hope you’re my best friend. I hope that we still have our own lives, but I don’t mind mine getting tangled up in yours every once in awhile. I hope you’re the kind of person that I want to go thrift shopping with, for chipped squirrel figurines and oddly proportioned frames that we place in random places around our apartment. I hope you don’t keep me from buying yet another $3 old man sweater because you know I need one in that particular shade of dark green. I hope you know which beer I’m going to order before I order it because you know how predictable I am in that way. I hope you don’t mind that I religiously use the Chip Clips on every open bag in the kitchen, so you draw faces on them just to make them more interesting. I hope you know how to make a cup of coffee that’s just strong enough. I hope that when we share a grapefruit in the morning, you give me the bigger half. I hope you secretly borrow my Chapstick even though I bought you your own three-pack at the drugstore after I saw you sneak it out of my purse the first time. I hope you write messages on the foggy mirror in the bathroom — not “I love you” messages, but lines like “in a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” because we both appreciate things like that. I hope you help me choose between two colors of paint for the bedroom based on the name of the shade, and not what it actually looks like.
I hope you understand my fear of parallel parking and phone calls. I hope you tell me your own fears, because men have them too and you’re just man enough to admit that. I hope you don’t mind me hitting the snooze button 3 times before I actually get up in the morning, and that I will probably borrow your razor or Old Spice when I’m in a hurry (or even when I’m not). I hope the one picture of us that you choose to display in your office is the one where neither of us is looking directly at the camera and that weird piece of hair on the back of your head is sticking straight up. I hope you’re proud of the fact that you can only successfully flip an omelette half of the time. I hope you let me listen to Highway 61 Revisited on our road trips, even if you can’t stand Bob Dylan. I hope you swear as much as I do when we play Mario Kart and you don’t let me win because you care that much about it.
I hope and wish for all of these things, but mostly I hope that I am all the things you want me to be, too. Because I know that as long as I’ve waited for you to come along, you’ve probably done the same. And I recognize that it’s the little, tiny parts of a relationship that make it special. So even if our relationship isn’t just like this, there will be other special things about it. And I’m sure all of our little things will make this waiting worth it.