An Open Letter to My Future Wife: "Please stop writing to me"

Dear Future Wife,

I received the letters you sent me.

I read where you said our relationship "will be better than any fairy tale,” and where you expressed your affection for me with "every molecule of brilliant love from within your heart, mind, body, and soul." I even heard the song you wrote for me a couple years ago. It was honestly pretty catchy.

And although I'm impressed by the sheer volume of unbridled sentimentality you somehow fit inside a standard size envelope, I would like to reply with a simple message...

Please stop writing to me.

I'm serious.
Just stop it.

I'm sorry if that came off as rude, but it needed to be said. Your letters are putting enormous pressure on the future. Because if we're honest, I'm not as great as you apparently think I'm going to be.

If you're looking for someone exciting and spontaneous to take you on magical adventures, I'm probably not your guy. A trip to the foreign foods section of the grocery store usually satisfies my wanderlust, and I spent my day off last week watching reruns of Reba.

And I'm not the best looking guy, either. Some people say I have a receding hairline. I always thought I had a big forehead, but even I’m starting to question it.

"But Future Husband," you might say, "your flaws won't matter because you will wipe my tears when I cry and you will supernaturally know when to hold me in your big, strong arms and we will never disagree because we will always be in total harmony with each other's emotions. Right?"

Probably not. I understand the female brain about as much as I understand my tax returns. I should also mention that I don't understand my tax returns, which is to admit I don't have a tremendous grasp on my current financial situation.

So, basically, I'm not your knight in shining armor. I'm trying my best, but if you keep puffing me up in your head, you will be pretty disappointed.

The most troubling part of your letters, though, is not the gross overestimation of my biceps.

It is the fact you write me letters at all.

Because instead of hanging out with friends or reading a book, you sat down and wrote a letter to me. Instead of enjoying the moment, you fantasized about the future. By obsessing over a dream, you missed reality.

And if the lazy, boring, balding one of us can be picky for a second, I'm hesitant to attach myself to someone who spent the majority of their existence wishing life was different. (Because if you think you want life to be different now, just wait until you marry me.)

So listen, I'm flattered you think of me, but we aren't together yet. And maybe we never will be. Who knows, maybe I'll be at home playing Mario Kart when I should have been introducing myself at that singles small group.

But maybe we should live our lives not based on future factors we have no control over. Our present and future happiness don't have to depend on someone else. We don't need each other in order to sap the most out of life.

So don't waste another second dreaming about the future. Go visit that place you've always wanted to visit, join that club, chase a dream.

But whatever you do, don't write me a letter back. Unless it includes your opinion on the series finale of Reba, I don't want to read it.

Cordially,

Your Future Husband