Monday, June 29, 2009

To my future One And Only,

I am sixteen years old, and that doesn't seem like a lot. But I think more than I speak, which says something because I speak more than most people would like. And trust me, at sixteen, I've thought long and hard about what I want my husband to look like, act like, and just generally be like. At sixteen, I have no clue if you'll be anything like my imagination, but I intend to detail it precisely right... now.

I don't know what you'll look like, but sadly, here lies potentially the most shallow piece of myself. Because I cannot imagine marrying anyone unattractive. Wait - before you think me superficial, please hear me out. "Attractive" is such a broad spectrum to me, because I think Pete Wentz is attractive, but I also think Matthew Perry is attractive (if you just said or thought "Who?" at Matthew Perry it is clear we cannot be together). I drool at Davey Havok and also at Corbin Bleu. "Sexy" holds no boundaries to me. Sexy is African and sexy is Caucasian and sexy is Latino and Native American and Asian and Middle Eastern. Sexy is red-haired and brunnette and black-haired and caramel-colored. Blonde is less sexy than the rest of these. Sexy is gorgeous eyes (I'm particularily partial to green eyes). Sexy is thin and muscular, but sexy is also a little chunky. I imagine a mix of all these things in you. I wonder how many qualities you'll hold?

As for your personality, you MUST be open-minded and silly and crazy and spontaneous and a little insane. Please kiss me when we're angry and please make our dates at strange places. Remember what I like, always, because I try to remember what you like. Treat me like a lady, but don't reat me like a delicate flower which cannot do man-things. Please don't text on dates - it's rude. Introduce me to your favorite bands, and love all kinds of music because music is the second-most holy thing on this planet. Speaking of holy things, I want us to share a religion that loves its God whole-heartedly. (And speaking of holey things, I like swiss cheese!) Travel with me, and I don't just mean across the country or to Europe or Asia or Africa or anywhere like that. I want to go there, too, but sometimes I just want to walk. Driving doesn't let you stop and look and see. Let's walk around Seattle, walk around Portland, walk around Forks or Bellingham or Tillamook.

I hope you don't like Halo or World of Warcraft, but if you do,'re a guy. I hope you're rough, but sweet and sarcastic, but sincere and sensitive. Be a contradiction. I hope you love music like you love breathing and I hope you love Jesus twice as much as you love me. I hope you read. I hope you love to obtain new knowledge and are sad when college ends because it's the end of structured learning and you love that like me. I hope you're tidy and cool-headed and tall and muscular, to compensate for all I am not. I hope when you read this, I am still a virgin and so are you. I hope you pressure me about all the right things and leave all else alone. I hope you'll watch chick flicks with me and love them. I hope you cry at "My Sister's Keeper" and "The Notebook" and "My Best Friend's Wedding" and "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas." When we watch "Dirty Dancing," I hope you hold me while I cry (I also hope you see that I'm not crying because it's really sad, but because I see you and I see Johnny and I worry that could happen to us). I hope you dance in the rain and I hope you sing well. I hope you have passion and love in your heart. I hope you like the rain. I hope we grow old together.

Now I'm sad... =[

I love you, my Future.

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