Letters,  Love

… And When I Reach Fifty, You May Find That I’m Really a Clinically Insane Five-Year-Old.

Dear Future Man That I Finally Manage To Trap Marry,

I was thinking the other day(actually… that was this morning) about just how incredibly gifted you will have to be to put up with me. Not that I’m a particularly difficult person to deal with… most days… but I’m  not exactly your run-of-the-mill, just-what-she-looks-like, normal girl. (I can’t even spell normal correctly on the first try. Really. It comes out “norlma.”)

Just about two hours ago, I was thinking about you, and how you might find me to be very odd at first. (or always)

You see, about two hours ago I was driving down the road talking to myself. That might not seem so very strange until you realize that I was doing it in a British accent. And my replies were Irish. And then, out of the blue, I laughed at something that had happened a few days ago. That’s when I thought of you, and wondered what attributes you will have that allow you to tolerate me and all of my quirks.

You’ll have to forgive me if I occasionally miss my cat more than I miss you, should I ever go on a trip away from you both; while I don’t think that you’ll have a problem competing with her for my love, it might happen. I’ve always missed my cat more than my family. They’ve  mostly gotten over it. It’s just that she’s my baby, and while I find it pathetic when people treat their animals as they would treat their kids… she’s the first living thing I’ve ever had that is all my own. And I love her a little much.

Then again, you’ll be the second living thing that I will have all to myself. So I think I’ll love you as much as I love her. More, if you bring me food. (Even more if it’s peanut butter and chocolate!)

I’ll probably gush to you about my story ideas with an incredible amount of enthusiasm. But you may not understand me, because while I know exactly what I’m talking about, my thoughts and ideas often develop while I discuss them with others and I may not ever really finish one sentence before I start another. To me, I’ve just smoothed out the huge plot hole and now the story makes perfect sense. To you, I’ll probably have just shot off a bunch of jumbled half-thoughts about how the clown could have a kitten and that would cure his mother’s second-cousin’s sister’s son’s cancer and save the world from an impending attack of half-breed squid-frog swamp aliens.

So long as you nod, smile, and occasionally tell me I’m brilliant, I won’t mind that you don’t get it. 😉

I often get very involved in the lives of my characters, so if you happen to walk into the room and find that I’m in tears, I probably wouldn’t mind a hug and some coffee. On the other hand, if you walk in and find me on my feet wielding my laptop as a shield and my pen as a sword, it might be a good time to back away slowly.

And before we ever have kids, you might want to know that I will most likely be prone to some hysterical crying and laughter. Possibly at the same time. While craving salsa, peanut butter, sauerkraut, and watermelon. In one dish.

I hope you don’t mind if you show up in my stories; don’t worry, you will always be the gallant hero. Unless, of course, I am  mad at you. In which case I will probably kill you off. Then feel bad and resurrect you. You’re going to have a very dramatic life.

And while I am a very affectionate person and I love to be showered with hugs and kisses (and presents), and I definitely do not live well when I’m completely in solitude, I hope you’ll forgive me if there are days when I’d much prefer to be left alone while I write. You may sit in the corner quietly- I’ll have a cozy chair by my desk just for you- yet there will be times when I won’t actually want to be spoken to. It happens.

But even though I’m a bit swingy when it comes to moods, and I change my mind almost as much as I change my hair color, one thing will remain the same. And that one thing is that I will always love you, even when I’m not so happy with you, and I will never, ever find or want a reason to leave you. Because honey, once I’ve got you firmly in my grasp, I’m  not going to let you go.

That was a bit creepy, wasn’t it…?

Oh well.

You can’t say that I didn’t warn you.

Love,

Me