Letter to My Future Husband

Dear Future Husband,

I’ve been writing to you every year for fifteen years. Since I was 19 years old. I remember the first letter I wrote to you. It was on creamy stationary, smooth ink swirled cursive descriptions of how I couldn’t wait to meet you. Giggling to myself as I laid across my stepmother’s floor, guessing if you were tall, dark, muscular or trim. Then at 20 I typed in an open poetry forum online, that I was still yearning for you. As the years went by I became more and more impatient. I grew tired of dead end relationships, emotional abusive men, and paying for the hurt the last woman did to them. Each break up, I internalized as a slap in the face from you. A “haha you thought it was me” cruel joke you played on me.

Last year’s letter I wrote to you, it was during a crying tirade. I had just ended a “situation” with a man who I thought wanted to be with me. I asked the dreaded question.. “What are we”? And he told me he didn’t want a relationship right now. Although, I had told him at day one, I wanted a fulfilling relationship. I thought he was you, you was him, and we were about to be one. That’s what hurt the most. You continue to fool me time and time again.

Now here I am, turning 35 in a couple of months, and I have yet to lay eyes on you. I’m asking myself why do I continue writing to an entity? When honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone out there for me. I have a hard exterior, I talk too much, I’m careless with money, and my weight… Deep down inside I think you can do better than me.

Write You Next Year,

T. M.