Letter From My Future Husband

Dear Larissa,

Yes, you do find me one day. Don’t worry about whether I’m taller than you or what color my eyes are. You’ll be surprised how little that matters. (But, for the record, no, I am not John Hamm).

I’m here, though, and I’m crazy about you.

I think you are breathtaking. And I tell you that, all the time. I find every inch of you incredibly sexy, and I can’t get enough of touching you, grabbing you, kissing you, holding you, and looking at you.

Our bodies and our hearts have a language of their own. We are madly in love, and we are dedicated to each other fully.

                                                                                                                       

We are honest; there are no lies or secrets. There are no eggshells; there is no caution. You can read me, and I can see you.

I think your cheesy romanticism is so sweet. I always hold your hand, run my fingers through your hair, stand close to you at parties, look at you when we make love, talk to all your friends, and let you have the last bite of everything.

I watch all your plays, films, and gigs. I am your number one fan, and you are my greatest supporter.

It matters to me that your family like me.

I love to hear you talk about feminism. I love to hear you talk.  

I am not perfect. We will fight. I am not here to fulfill or complete you. But I love you, I want you, and I care about you. I am here for you. I see you.

I know you are anxious to know when we are going to meet, or if you already know me. I know you want to know if we have kids and a home and our dream jobs. I can’t tell you that, though, it’s against the rules. But you’ll know when the time is right.

Until then, take good care of yourself and of your beautiful, open heart. Be gentle, be kind, be sweet, and indulge in your willingness to love. Have no regrets, know that every single one of your stories will lead you to me.

I am here, I am crazy about you, and I cannot wait to marry you.

Love,

Me.