Day #30 Dear John

Well, this is it. Day #30. I’ve got my tissues ready, and of course, my ever faithful mutt at my side. Let’s do this.

Day #30 Write a letter to your future mate saying whatever you want to say

Ok, I’ve got this.

Dear Moses,

     How do I know your name is Moses? I know, because I’m 30, and you are nowhere in sight, so it seems, so I am assuming you are out wandering the desert of Singledom with all of the other single, datable men of the world. If I’m 30, does that mean I have wait 10 more years for you? Are you lost? Hello? Anyone out there? Mic check, 1, 2, 1, 2?

Ok, ok, ok. So, that’s not what I want to say. I actually choked up typing the Day #30 prompt, because this is so damn emotional for me to write. Some of these have been some challenging posts, but this post is the one that feels the most intimate and raw to me. This is so personal in so many ways, but it’s the last post, so I can’t tap out now. Geez. I’ll be honest and say one of my biggest fears in writing this and putting it on Twitter is the fear that some single guy out there, who I might want to date, is reading this and going, “This chick is crazy,” and making mental notes of personal details about me, so  that if our paths ever cross, he will recognize me and can run like hell from me. Then, through reading and writing and being loved by many awesome people, I am always brought back to the reminder that if a guy read this and was put off by it, then he is not the one for me. This blog is so me…open, honest, saracastic, silly, soft, bold, and real. I want to be with someone who recognizes those things about me and can handle it. So, here it is. My real letter to him.

To My Future Teammate,

             I’m already crying. S—. This is hard to write, because what do I even say? Where have you been all my life? Are you Prince Charming? Are you a better cook than I am? If not, we are so screwed. Ahhh…no, no, no. I want to write this awesome, poignant letter to you that will go viral and will make our love story famous…except I don’t know who you are yet, so…that makes this challenging. So, instead, I will tell you all of the things I hope and pray for when I hope and pray for you and our life together someday.

I hope you are a Christian who wants to grow in your faith with me. I pray that you will be a boyfriend and a husband who will pray for me and our family. I want to be a woman who prays for you. I already do…not in a could you please bring him NOW, God, kind of way…in a “Lord, prepare this man’s life and heart for our life together and with You…and do the same with my heart and life” kind of way. This matters to me now more than ever before. It is a part of my heart that just will not be quiet.

I hope you want to be my teammate…my partner in crime, my better half…the one who pushes me to be better…not just a permanent roomate.

I hope you are kind and loving and have a good sense of humor. I love to laugh and joke and be silly and affectionate. I LOVE a good practical joke, and I will love you even more if you can pull a good one on me. I am tenderhearted and sentimental, and I will cry at every sappy little thing on TV or at any picture on the internet of kids and dogs. I will sometimes cry watching football, and I hope you can handle that. This part of me only gets worse as I get older.

I hope you are filled with the desire to love and serve others. This matters to me so much, because I want to share that experience with my partner and with the family I hope to have someday.

I hope you are cool with the fact that I can take care of myself. I bought my house when I was 23 and single, I have never made a single late payment on a bill, and I can carry in that 35 pound bag of dog food myself, thankyouverymuch. I’ve got this. <Cue Destiny’s Child singing “Independent Women”>

I hope you are cool with the fact that this independent woman would love for you to walk the dog in the dark, because I will always be scared of Freddy Kreuger. And I hope you are a handyman, or at least know who to call, because I am terrible around the house. I also hope you will fill up my car with gas on occasion, because that is an errand I just really hate. I hope you understand I’ve got this, but I am sometimes alright with letting you have it.

I hope you like beer more than wine. And I hope you don’t ever want to take me to the symphony. So not me.

I hope and pray you will love my daddy, or at the very least, respect him. He’s the first man who loved me and the person whose approval matters most to me. I hope, should you decide you want to marry me, you will ask him first. I know I’m a big girl, but I’m his little girl, and I always will be. I hope, if you do marry me, you will understand if I hang on extra few seconds when he gives me away or when our daddy-daughter dance ends. He’s my superhero.

And last…but certainly not least…I hope you love dogs. Even more so, I hope you come into my life while Riley-dog is still around. He is seriously the best little dog in the world and the most loyal friend I have ever had. Right now, like with almost every other blog post, he is snuggled up beside me snoring away his cares. He is the little rascal who stole my heart with his crooked ear and lust for life. He has more energy and personality than any dog I have ever seen, and I’ll tell you right now, there are going to be times when I want to snuggle him over you. Sorry…I’m not sorry. I hope you’re ok with a dog in the bed, because I’m not sure Riley knows he is a dog, and at 10 years old…well, you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks. Plus, my little feller is getting old, and the older he gets, the more love I will show to my most faithful friend even if that means you and I wake up to a little dog breath on occasion. I also hope you like squeaky toys, because this. dog. loves. to. play. He will fetch, he will tug, he will chase, he will hunt, he will squeak, he will sit…he will do ANYTHING for someone who will throw his squeaky toy with him. Riley’s a good boy who loves his momma, and really to love me, you have to love him. We are a package deal, you see, because this is the story of a girl and a her dog…but don’t worry, we’ll make room for you…for the small entry fee of a new squeaky toy. We can hardly wait.


                                    Hayley and Riley (the BEST DOG I will ever love…)


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