Dear You:

I know you’re out there. I can feel it in my bones. We’ll have a love story that pushes boundaries and makes us feel alive. For every year that goes by, that I don’t find you though, I bow my head in gratitude.

The wait just means I have that much more time to learn what not to do when you finally come around.

I’ve learned not to yell, not to project or wrap my identity up into yours. Well, I am learning those things at least. I’ve learned to let the picture paint itself, rather than setting parameters on how the canvas of our relationship should look. I don’t ignore your call when I am cross at you and I don’t always need you to pick me up when I am down, I can do that on my own. My needs are actually far and few between, but my wants have tipped the scale.

I want you to share an interest in my work. I want our families to get along. Enough that they actually choose to spend weekends together or go out to dinner outside of the holidays. I want you to make me laugh and be crazy enough to think we can handle raising an animal together. I want you to be so excited about life, I can’t help, but be infected by your positivity. So much so, that the doctor thinks it’s fatal.

Sure, there have been so many that came before you. That’s just a fact of life. I’m not under any pre-conceived notions that you didn’t break a few hearts before you and I came together. In fact, I want to hear those stories, of the babes you loved and left; they’re all a part of your story and you’re a book I can’t help, but want to read cover to cover. I hope you look back on all the girls you’ve loved and smile fondly, I know that’s how I look back on my own dating narrative. They all taught me so much, about life, laughter, forgiveness, humility and heart-break. You don’t get me, without them.

To all the men, I’ve loved before, thank you. Thank you for being a high I had to chase; for making me bang my head against a wall trying to make you into something you are not. Thank you for the memories, the gifts - both material and spiritual, for the coffee, dinner and movie dates and the nights spent basking in our youth while we secretly smoked Black and Milds, listening to music and thinking we had life all figured out. To the short-lived romances, one-night stands, lasting love stories and friendships it was an honor to know you all.

Dear Mr. Dark Roast, never have I felt safer than in your arms. They wrapped me up tight and let me know it was ok to just be. You made me laugh beyond measure and I’m smart enough to know you’re a love that will last a lifetime.

Dear Escobar, you’re what I imagine a drug binge to feel like. I appreciate the roller-coaster ride. You pulled at the depths of my soul and shot me up with so much life, it sometimes seemed as though I could run for days without a single bite to eat or drop of water to drink.

Dear Jazz, you really did a number on me. And I probably did the same to you. We were young and learning, but how I loved you so. All of our adventures led to a love that was intense and gut-wrenching, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dear Mr. First Class, while our time was fleeting, it taught me so much. I learned about impermanence, how to let go and go after something I wanted; without a second thought. Sometimes I wonder what you’re up to, but know it’s just as well not to know.

Dear Peter Pan, I can’t help, but smile every time you enter my mind. There’s a piece of me that thinks we could have something really great, but there’s an even bigger piece that knows it would never work out. I am too high-strung for you and while I love to travel, Never Never Land isn’t on my list of places to go.

To all the men I’ve loved before and who have loved me in return, thank you. This Valentine’s Day, the most important relationship I have to celebrate is the one with myself, but that bond wouldn’t be as strong as it is if you all hadn’t been there to help seal it.

Love, Me

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