Dear Future Husband,

This post is a literary nod to Peter DeWolf’s “Future Wife” letters. I’ve been listening to a lot of really sad music and thinking about my life sitch and knitting and stuff. #NotHashtaggable

Dear Future Husband,

I’m not really that nice of a person. I know my face looks like I should be dropping off cookies at your house right now, but I ALWAYS (usually) buy presents last minute, or at completely inappropriate times, and I really, really, really like swearing. I will miss your birthday gift-wise but write you a book of poetry on a random Tuesday in March. So, drawbacks, but SURPRISES. Fun, right?

Also, I don’t really like baking stuff, but I will force you to buy me cookies when I’m upset by a TV show/book/magazine article/tweet I read.

Fun fact: I’ve been doing the Tinder thing lately. I’m really hoping I don’t meet you on Tinder, but then me being there would be totally somewhat fruitless, right? I just think it’s so strange. Sure, I’ll put up a perfectly lighted photo of myself that highlights all my most aesthetically-pleasing features, but I’m pretty sure you, future husband, will not continue to badger me to see “bikini pics”. And if you do, I’m going to be SO MAD.

BECAUSE I’M GOING TO UNMATCH THE HELL OUT OF YOU, and I’m pretty sure serendipity, like, DIED when Tinder came into existence, because people don’t swipe left on you and then run into you randomly on the subway without ducking their head and getting out at the next stop. Or just giving you mad side-eye.

So, Future Husband, I’m not really sure what’s in the cards here. Except that dating kind of sucks.

And, you know, I’m generally a pretty optimistic person. Even if I go on a bad first date with someone, I tend to file it under “Good Experience, but Maybe Let’s Not Ever Do That Again”, like where I put surfing. But dating people from online is like playing darts with a fucking penny (forgot they don’t exist anymore) nickel for a target, and everyone outside of the target just being a giant pile of turds. And despite the fact that I have daily thoughts about becoming Katniss Everdeen and becoming super awesome at shooting stuff, my aim is so sucky. Like, SO sucky.

Like worse than that time I tried to jump onto a branch to do this cool flip in front of a boy I liked in grade 8 and missed completely and bruised my ass bone. It’s gotten worse. Than that.

And sure, I get Tinder is for “hooking up”. But what is it with “hooking up”? Sam Smith’s super soulful and beautiful song, which is on like EVERY damn chart of super awesome cool songs right now, is about wanting to cuddle with a girl he hooked up with but knew he didn’t love. WELCOME TO MODERN DATING, FOLKS. Where everyone needs comfort, wants love, and has mediocre-to-bad sex with pseudo-strangers instead.

The weird thing is is that when it gets brought up, everyone admits that it sucks. But we are all so stupidly lonely. What’s UP with that? Why do we need to find so much comfort in each other, Future Husband?

I’d like to believe that people really just want to be loved. I think, ultimately, I want to be kind of badass and problematic and demanding and deal with your shit willingly because you deal with mine. I’m over being put up on pedestals as this “nice girl”. I already told you, I’m not that nice.

What I am is madly devoted, hopeful, strong-willed, and passionate. I love hard and I am unafraid of loving. I know this because I feel it running through my veins. I know that with you, future husband, I am going to give my absolute all and then some, every damn day. Because it will be a blessing to have you in my life, and I will want to live up to the image you have of me in your head, too. Thankfully, it’ll be an idea, not a pedestal, that I’m on. I know this because I will fuck up. With you, in life, around you, all the time. But you will still love me when I yell at you and forget (intentionally) to take the garbage out and other stuff, too. And I will still love you when you do the laundry and ruin my favourite jeans. And I will love that you realize that all of these are probably bad rom-com movie references about crappy-turned-wonderful relationship montages where the man is horrible at chores and the woman’s only flaw is “clumsiness”.

And I will love that you will call me out on it. And I will love that you don’t care that despite my morals, I still love those movies to death.

Because future husband, I want to be the contradictory, real, complicated, frustrating, hilarious and imperfect person I am, with you. When I find you, I need you to be genuine, and not just a “certified nice guy” Tinder profile. I don’t need you to be nice either. I just need you to be real, and worth loving.

Oh, and you can’t have a photo of yourself holding up a fish. That is not a quality you want to put out into the dating world, despite the similar thoughts of at least 10 other men in the Greater Toronto Area.




Gripe here!

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