An Open Letter to the Next Man I Date

It’s 5:13am on a Thursday morning in Midwestern February. I’m writing now, because, when I’m awake I’m awake and my brain thinks about all of the things I would normally bury beneath busyness before the sun’s awake to shed light on the world I’m supposed to live in.

I want you to know that I pray for you. Not the way that every Christian dating blog post tells me I should.

I pray for your smile. I hope that it graces your face a lot today. I pray for your patience, because, I’ve met me and you’re going to need loads of it. I pray that your meals of the day are delicious because, life’s too short to eat subpar food or drink anything but the best coffee. I pray that you understand the art of swear words. While I choose not to use them for ninety-eight percent of my life, a well-used F Bomb is a thing of beauty.

I don’t care if you love the things I love. In fact, I hope you love lots of things I know nothing about. I want to learn from you. If you’re passionate it I’d love nothing more than to spend time learning. The point of joining lives together it’s necessarily to accumulate duplicate copies of albums. If Wilco sits next to Wu Tang Clan in our record collection, I’ll be entirely happy with that. If reading this prompts you to then Google who Wilco is, I’m even happier. I hope your search has lead you to listen to “Jesus, etc.” I really love that song.

There are a lot of days I think you may not exist. You’re some sort of figment of my imagination that I’ve been convinced is real. Like Santa Claus or the imaginary friends of my childhood. I’m pretty sure the ache in my heart that I feel when I think of you wouldn’t exist if you didn’t. I wouldn’t swoon over your possibility if it didn’t make sense to me.

I apologize for not having more experience before you. I don’t know if that’s silly or not, but, the little experience I’ve had with men that aren’t you have left scars. Even the smallest moments have ruined me for you in my mind and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed the Oxford grad the night I met him. Something about his accent, education and the lonely made me think I could replace you for a moment and I should have known better. I’m sorry I said words that I had saved for you to the preacher. He had me convinced of forever for a moment and took me for a fool with sweet words and grand promises.

I hope you realize that when I say I want to marry you, I don’t mean within moments. I want to spend the rest of my life with just you. That doesn’t mean I’m a crazy person. I’ve never really explained that to anyone before. I’m afraid to date anyone that’s not you. I don’t want you to think that’s commendable. I make more sense like this.  Busy, over-caffeinated, under slept and too damn cute for the rest of the world. I’m sorry that my scars and weaknesses have built walls for you to climb. I’m sorry that I’m going to need so much reassurance. This is the mess the few before you have created and I allowed them to.

I think about dancing with you, sometimes. I’m a terrible dancer. Every musician I’ve ever worked with is well aware of that because, lots of them have seen it. But, it won’t stop me. I should probably apologize for that too but, I have a feeling you’ll get used to it.

I want you to know that I already love you. I am already so swept up in how you love me that I can’t wait to experience it. You are worth all of the dark mornings. You are worth all of the meals for two recipes I’ve been adapting for one. You’re worth all of the Friday nights I don’t spend in bars, and the reason that the ones I do involve working for souls that already respect what belongs to you. They already treat me with love, care and joy because, they want you for me just as badly. (For the record, some of the men are the very ones that scolded me into deleting dating apps. They are on your team. It makes me happy.)

Today, I’m pretty excited for meet you. Take your time getting here if you must, but, I cannot wait for our adventure together. I love you always.

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