I’m writing letters to my future husband.
Maybe I’ve met him, maybe I have not.
Do I sound crazy? Are you questioning my life choices? Have you moved on to the next article? (You better have only answered yes to two of those questions, by the way.)
This is something I decided to do when I ended a cheesy short-lived relationship that I knew was nothing more than drunken makeout sessions. And then I read this book on relationships because that’s what 20-something girls do. Read books on why our lives seem way less put together than our teenage selves had ever imagined. Anyway, there was this one chapter on the whole writing letters thing. I thought, “I don’t need this, look at all my suitors.”
I wrote my first letter before I even finished the book.
While at the moment I am pursuing a career and not a boyfriend, I still can’t ignore the fact that I’m 24 and have never been in a serious relationship. I think part of it is because I don’t really want to date a guy just for the sake of dating a guy. I’m dating in the hopes that it turns into a marriage. (Please keep in mind, I mean marriage, not wedding. I don’t have a wedding Pinterest board or the slightness clue what kind of dress I would want… not that those are necessarily bad. But a wedding is one day; I want a lifetime). You may disagree with that mindset. That’s fine. Dating around in your 20s is apparently a very popular thing to do. It’s not my thing and I say do whatever you want.
But there are these things, these moments in your life that you only want to share with someone who is so completely, incredibly important in your life that is not your dad or your bestie gal pal. Here’s what I’m trying to say. I believe that the person you decide to spend the rest of your life with — husband or wife — doesn’t complete you. I hate that. I hate that saying, “You complete me.” No, you are a whole person, you are fine. But what they do is understand you on a level no one else can. Someone who loves you because you are not their flesh and blood but loves you because of the person you are, is a greater type of love I don’t think I will ever fully understand. But isn’t that magical? No really, it’s magical. And this person will care what you did today at work no matter how menial it was. And they will want to know what new discovery you found out about your favorite artist. Or that life epiphany you had while wasting time at your job that maybe you secretly hate. But they know you hate it anyway without you saying because they can tell what you’re feeling just by simply looking at you. Because they just know you so damn well.
That’s why I write letters to my future husband. It’s like a journal, but I plan on someone reading it, not hiding under my bed only to burn it years later in a life crisis rage. No, I write my future husband letters because I hate that he is missing out on all these things going on in my life that are molding me and changing me and things I want him to know and am afraid I might forget one day. And I hate that I am missing out on all the same things in his life too. I even ask him questions in the letters that he better stink answer when he does read them. Even if they are outdated or whatever. What if he is writing me letters too? Now that would be magical for sure.
And maybe I never get married. It’s a possibility. But then I will have this excellent collection of letters never read that I could probably make a book out of and become a best seller. Either way, it’s a win-win.