Dear Future Wife

Dear future wife,

The interesting girl of whom I will never get bored of. I can’t wait to drink your quintessence, getting drunk off every single ounce of your soul to the point Alcoholics Anonymous won’t accept me. I wanna inhale every crevasse of your skin and smoke the deepest valleys of your mind. I plan to bottle you up so I can take sips and get my fix of you whenever I please. I’ll proudly pronounce I’m an addict if I get to overdose on you daily.

Dear Future Wife,

The one who’ll bear the harshness of a thunderstorm, just to feel the jolt of the electricity. Because to you, experiences are far greater than the initial shock. Because life is so short and you intend to make it long, as long as my, awkward, first glance at you will be.

Dear Future Wife,

The one who’ll thieve the attention from any and everybody in a room even easier than candy from a baby. She’ll never mean to but she always will. The women who will bear the potential that’s bar none, incomparable, but you understand comparison is an insecure tactic to unfairly grade beauty. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what you don’t understand is you’re a unanimous pick across the board.

Dear Future Wife,

Bigfoot and you share a lot in common. No not the hairiness, or the smell, or the fact that Bigfoot is tall as hell. No, you and Bigfoot share the fact that you’re impossible to find, that men are labeled crazy to believe someone like you exists, the fact that people spend their whole lives to get even the tiniest glimpse of you. A mere mental image. But No flash photography here. Not because you’re fragile but because you believe that the moment is what matters.

Dear future wife,

A great girl to lay with, but not to play with cause you see yourself as more than a Barbie doll. You hold the key, which unlocks the chains to my desires. Cupid’s gonna have to use a fighter jet to deliver loves touch because a bow and arrow wouldn’t properly measure the strength of our connection. A connection that isn’t predicated on technology, we got that old school wiring that don’t need no wifi.

Dear Future Wife,

The self-proclaimed weirdo who’ll read a book two or three times to make sure each page can feel appreciated. She'll be the type to drop her earphones and apologize to them, because she understands how much being used then swiftly abandoned feels. The one that carries baggage not as baggage but as luggage she chooses to drag around as a carry-on, on the flight to me. I know, I know, this is a little cheesy but you’ll milk me from the start, buttercup. You prolly don’t like dairy though cause I’m kind of lactose intolerant and you will hate it when I’m gassy. But you’ll love me, gas and all.

Dear Future Wife,

The girl who’ll point out the littlest things, like how littlest isn’t a word. I can’t wait for you to rewind my consciousness 17 years back, to the child I was. The child that saw the world from a wondrous and hopeful point of view. The one who’ll rock with me, talk with me, look at people doing some weird shit and scoff with me. Your imperfections are only to balance the quality of everything else you got. I can't wait to gush over your cute expressions, like that one you'll make that makes you look like you're radiating sunshine. And that frustrated face you’re gonna make after I beat you 11- 0 at basketball. Which will be every time.

Dear Future Wife,

I pray the future is soon, and I hope as I’m writing this letter you’re writing me one too.