Teenagers in Love: A Love Letter to my Future Husband- StageofLife writing prompt for April
Dear Future Husband,
How are you doing? I do hope I like you. My curiosity (or is it fear?) is eating me up. I want to know how we met!
Did we collide into each other, me dropping my books like the flustered angel that I am, and your hand brushed mine as you helped me pick them up?
Or did we share an umbrella in the rain, the proximity of our bodies creating more lightning than the storm above our heads?
Neither, I hope.
You see, future husband, I have a problem. I hate perfect love, and I hope you're nothing like the perfect boys I see on TV. I want you to be as normal as possible. In fact, when we meet, please don't bother doing your hair ( I won't). When we collide, laugh at me for being clumsy because I was probably reading when I so rudely became the prow of the boat to your Ursula's chest. Then, proceed to hold my page for me, so that I can pick up my books, because you udnerstand perfectly well that no girl (or boy) needs help picking up a couple books (or maybe this time I was smart enough to use that extraordinary invention called a backpack?!). Anyways, comment on the book I'm reading and ask about it, then proceed to sit down with me at the table and prevent me from reading. I will certainly be unpleasant and may make many subtle comments about how I would prefer to be alone and reading, but you will already have found out that pestering me is something you enjoy, so you will cheerfully ignore anything I say.
Next, I hope, we do not have instant crushes on each other. I hope to like you as a human from the very start, but please, do not expect me to swoon into your arms at first try. Hopefully, maybe by the times we've known each other well enough to exasperate the living hell out each other, I'll begin to notice I like hugging you. You'll begin to like hanging out, just the two of us. Slowly, we get comfortable with the idea of liking each other, and maybe I'll tell you that I have never kissed anyone, and you'll laugh and call me lame. Promise me you'll do it, or I'll be too embarrassed to ever show my face to you again. Admitting is not something I easily do. I need my back-up comic relief when I am not capable of making my own particular brand of punny jokes.
Then maybe the first time we'll kiss you'll call me inexperienced. And laugh. Make me laugh a lot or I won't even think of marrying you. And be prepared to live with a bunch of dogs once you complete that requirement. You'll be feeding and walking them, while I get to pet them and witness clever tricks (you'll be in charge of those too, oh we're going to have so much fun!). We're an equal opportunity kind of couple. Or rather, we will be.
And going on dates. Right.
I'm promising you, our first date will be hell. I'll probably think up something really romantic like wall climbing, and in the middle, I'll faint from my undefeatable fear of heights, but you'll catch me. And then I'll yell "Just kidding!" in your face, cleverly untangle my harness and rope from yours, and monkey up the rocks while you hang suspended (and dumbfounded) in midair. Ha.
Just kidding. I'm really bad at wall climbing.
WAIT. Maybe our first date will be one of those typical dinner date things. Or going to the movies?
I'm crossing my fingers, because if you take me to an Avengers movie, I swear to God, you will be the last boy who I'll be looking at in that theatre. And you better agree with me that everything Nick Fury says is to be followed by either "Nick Fury is a religion" or simple admiration with the phrase "Oooooooh!" Otherwise bye.
Oh, and when you propose to me, please don't write a speech. Please don't tell me your life changed after you met me, because the only life changing thing I made you do was switch to NickFury-ism, the greatest religion of them all. And maybe I did encourage you to get a tumblr account, which might have led to your higher procrastination levels. Okay, don't mention that when you propose to me. I'll say no out of consideration for you.
Convince me.
I already know you're great. That's probably why I let you in this far. I don't do that with many people. Convince me that I'm worth marrying. Make me laugh (I have a bad sense of humour so this part's easy). This is why I asked you to leave out anything that I worsened for you in life. You already know that I'm too shy to even ask someone to close the window if it means that it might inconvenience them. I wouldn't even let you tie my shoelace when I broke my hand. I honestly don't think I'm worth it. Please, go make me look in the mirror at that face of mine, and tell me that behind it lies the most superlative person you've ever known. Don't tell me I'm pretty, because I'm tired of people who think that's the one thing a girl wants to hear. But you already know that. So you 'll call me lame, with a dash of poor humour and nerdy, all of the things I really am, and you will tell me that it's worth knowing.
Dear future husband, whoever you are, thank you for coming this far with me. I probably love you, and have a harder time saying that than I should. Just kidding! I shower for your sake, so you should know that I am already putting 100% more effort than I did for anyone else.
Long live Nick Fury,
you-remember-your-wife's-name-so-yeah-hey-it's-me
How are you doing? I do hope I like you. My curiosity (or is it fear?) is eating me up. I want to know how we met!
Did we collide into each other, me dropping my books like the flustered angel that I am, and your hand brushed mine as you helped me pick them up?
Or did we share an umbrella in the rain, the proximity of our bodies creating more lightning than the storm above our heads?
Neither, I hope.
You see, future husband, I have a problem. I hate perfect love, and I hope you're nothing like the perfect boys I see on TV. I want you to be as normal as possible. In fact, when we meet, please don't bother doing your hair ( I won't). When we collide, laugh at me for being clumsy because I was probably reading when I so rudely became the prow of the boat to your Ursula's chest. Then, proceed to hold my page for me, so that I can pick up my books, because you udnerstand perfectly well that no girl (or boy) needs help picking up a couple books (or maybe this time I was smart enough to use that extraordinary invention called a backpack?!). Anyways, comment on the book I'm reading and ask about it, then proceed to sit down with me at the table and prevent me from reading. I will certainly be unpleasant and may make many subtle comments about how I would prefer to be alone and reading, but you will already have found out that pestering me is something you enjoy, so you will cheerfully ignore anything I say.
Next, I hope, we do not have instant crushes on each other. I hope to like you as a human from the very start, but please, do not expect me to swoon into your arms at first try. Hopefully, maybe by the times we've known each other well enough to exasperate the living hell out each other, I'll begin to notice I like hugging you. You'll begin to like hanging out, just the two of us. Slowly, we get comfortable with the idea of liking each other, and maybe I'll tell you that I have never kissed anyone, and you'll laugh and call me lame. Promise me you'll do it, or I'll be too embarrassed to ever show my face to you again. Admitting is not something I easily do. I need my back-up comic relief when I am not capable of making my own particular brand of punny jokes.
Then maybe the first time we'll kiss you'll call me inexperienced. And laugh. Make me laugh a lot or I won't even think of marrying you. And be prepared to live with a bunch of dogs once you complete that requirement. You'll be feeding and walking them, while I get to pet them and witness clever tricks (you'll be in charge of those too, oh we're going to have so much fun!). We're an equal opportunity kind of couple. Or rather, we will be.
And going on dates. Right.
I'm promising you, our first date will be hell. I'll probably think up something really romantic like wall climbing, and in the middle, I'll faint from my undefeatable fear of heights, but you'll catch me. And then I'll yell "Just kidding!" in your face, cleverly untangle my harness and rope from yours, and monkey up the rocks while you hang suspended (and dumbfounded) in midair. Ha.
Just kidding. I'm really bad at wall climbing.
WAIT. Maybe our first date will be one of those typical dinner date things. Or going to the movies?
I'm crossing my fingers, because if you take me to an Avengers movie, I swear to God, you will be the last boy who I'll be looking at in that theatre. And you better agree with me that everything Nick Fury says is to be followed by either "Nick Fury is a religion" or simple admiration with the phrase "Oooooooh!" Otherwise bye.
Oh, and when you propose to me, please don't write a speech. Please don't tell me your life changed after you met me, because the only life changing thing I made you do was switch to NickFury-ism, the greatest religion of them all. And maybe I did encourage you to get a tumblr account, which might have led to your higher procrastination levels. Okay, don't mention that when you propose to me. I'll say no out of consideration for you.
Convince me.
I already know you're great. That's probably why I let you in this far. I don't do that with many people. Convince me that I'm worth marrying. Make me laugh (I have a bad sense of humour so this part's easy). This is why I asked you to leave out anything that I worsened for you in life. You already know that I'm too shy to even ask someone to close the window if it means that it might inconvenience them. I wouldn't even let you tie my shoelace when I broke my hand. I honestly don't think I'm worth it. Please, go make me look in the mirror at that face of mine, and tell me that behind it lies the most superlative person you've ever known. Don't tell me I'm pretty, because I'm tired of people who think that's the one thing a girl wants to hear. But you already know that. So you 'll call me lame, with a dash of poor humour and nerdy, all of the things I really am, and you will tell me that it's worth knowing.
Dear future husband, whoever you are, thank you for coming this far with me. I probably love you, and have a harder time saying that than I should. Just kidding! I shower for your sake, so you should know that I am already putting 100% more effort than I did for anyone else.
Long live Nick Fury,
you-remember-your-wife's-name-so-yeah-hey-it's-me
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