Hope You Like Baguettes and Wine

Dear Future Husband,

I went into the grocery store to buy food for dinner and came home with a french baguette and a bottle of wine. I had to laugh at myself because I’ve become that girl. The one who no longer cares about preparing a full course meal. Just give me some bread and butter, and a glass of wine, and I’m good.

So future hubs, I hope you too like french baguettes and wine…or take out…or cereal, because I don’t know that I have the energy for full course meals on a regular basis anymore. Now, had you come along 10-15 years ago, or heck, even 5 years ago, preparing meals would’ve been my pleasure, but I think I’ve lost my cooking mojo.

I remember back in the day, I’d cook Sunday dinner on Sunday mornings before church. I was preparing to be your wife and that was a part of my training. My thought was, dinner would be ready anytime we were ready to eat, and we could spend the afternoon watching football without either of us having to be in the kitchen slaving over the stove. Those were the days, but days gone by buddy, because that’s definitely not happening anymore. No sir. Un-less! Unless you’re a multimillionaire and I can be a stay-at-home wife. Then I’ll gladly exchange a dinner of bread and wine for a full course meal. Heck, you might even get dessert too, shoot.

Well, as always

With Love,

From Your Future Wife

Had To Check Myself

Dear Future Husband,

This morning I had to repent, not for wanting what I want, but for thinking I have the right to demand my own way. For being frustrated and angry that I can’t have what I want when I want it, which is you, right now. This morning, I had to ask myself, who am I that I should go before God and demand anything? It was such a display of little faith, that I needed to check myself.

See, because of the relationship I have with the Father, I know that He will not withhold any good thing from me. He promised me that, and He’s a God who keeps His promises. So really, why am I trippin’? When you become that good thing, we will be together, of this I’m sure.


Your Future Wife

Waiting with Tears

Dear Future Husband,

This morning was difficult. I had to pray through some serious tears. Tears of sadness because I’m tired of being told to wait. Don’t settle. One day God is going to show you why it didn’t work out with anyone else. Blah, blah, blah. Not to put any pressure on you, but all I know is, you better be worth it. Worth every tear, all the loneliness, all the aloneness.


Your Future Wife


I Joined A Dating Site


Dear Future Husband,

I joined a dating site. And not just any dating site, but apparently the one that’s known for people just “hooking up.” Honestly, I don’t know why I did it, except it was an early Saturday morning and something I’d just read, while scrolling through my TL, caught my attention, and before I know it I was headed to the site. Why I didn’t stop there? Curiosity. I wanted to see what the site had to offer, even though I knew, down in my spirit, it wasn’t the place I’d meet you.

There was this one guy. He was tall, dark and kinda-handsome. He was the only guy I actually exchanged numbers with, and talked to, because apparently, people match and then don’t actually talk to each other. It’s a very strange site. But anyway, he only wanted to talk about sex and I knew right away this wasn’t the site for me. And just so you know, I don’t mind talking about sex, but that’s not all I want to discuss, and it certainly isn’t the FIRST thing I want to discuss. I mean, the first question after we exchanged pleasantries was, “do you masturbate, and did you masturbate this morning?” Whoa whoa whoa. “Dude, you don’t qualify to ask or receive an answer to that question,” was my response. Needless to say, that was my first and last conversation with him.

It was actually the last conversation with anyone, as that one month of membership I paid for was a waste of money, and I’ve since deleted the account. You can reimburse me when we meet, by the way 😉. So I pray you’re not looking for me there because if you are, you won’t find me. You have a much better chance of meeting me on Twitter, IG or LinkedIn, where it’s free, and you can light weight get to know how I think and the things I’m interested in.

Well, until the next time. I’ll holla.


Your Future Wife

Wasn’t Thinking About You

Dear Future Husband,

For maybe two or three weeks I didn’t think about you much. I was busy working on some things that had me pretty occupied, like the second edition of my book. But then a friend came into town for work, and stayed over the weekend so we could hangout. We spent a day and a half laughing, analyzing his current relationship, and having deep philosophical conversations about nothing, but everything at the same time. Unfortunately, when he left, so did the peace I had prior to his coming.

Well it’s been four weeks since then, and I’ve since gotten my mind right. Though I won’t lie, the fact that men have been coming out of the woodwork lately has certainly helped. And while it has all been very entertaining I know that none of them are you. But because it has been entertaining, I’ve not been whining to the Father about when you’re going to show up. Actually I’ve spent time praying for you. You know, prayers like, Father, break up the relationship he’s currently in. Make him miserable until he does. LOL. Okay, maybe the prayer hasn’t been that crass, but I have been praying for you. I hope you’re well.

Until next time.


Your Future Wife

The Mouse Is Dead

Dear Future Husband,

Oh. My. God! There was a mouse in the house! But I didn’t panic. I didn’t pack up my things and abandon the place. I did the very grown up, brave thing to do, and patched the hole in the wall, where I think the mouse came in, and I bought mouse traps….20 of them to be exact. Okay, maybe I went a bit overboard, but I was determined to catch a mouse!

The guy at Ace Hardware showed me exactly how to set up and bait the traps, which I did with great precision. The peanut butter applied to each trap was enough to tempt any mouse, but especially one who hadn’t eaten in days. Um, yeah. it came to the wrong place looking for food. So at this point it was either going to be caught in the trap or it was going to starve to death. But I needed it to die in the corner, in a trap, and not wake up to a dead mouse in the middle of my floor! Do you know how horrified I would’ve been?!



Hooray for a multitude of well baited mouse traps! This morning the mouse was dead. And not only was it dead, but the force of the trap caused the trap to flip over and was on top of the mouse. That was God’s grace by the way, because He knew I couldn’t stomach seeing the nasty thing lying there dead on my floor.

I know you’re probably thinking, “Yes! I knew my brave girl could do it,” but really, this is where I freak out. Yeah, I know I talked about being brave…that was yesterday. Today is a new day and all bravery is gone. Anxiety kicked in and all I could think about was how was I going to get rid of this dead mouse? After showering and getting dressed I left the house, because I needed time to think this through. You know, kinda like turning down the radio in the car so you can find the address you’re looking for. Should I ask a stranger walking down the street to come in and sweep it up for me? But then I thought I better not do that because he might come back later and kill me. Next thought was, is there a handyman service I can call, who specifically pick up dead mice for single women? Hey, that’s not a bad idea, you just have to charge enough so it’s worth the gas you’ll use getting to the next customer. Anyway, I digress. What was I going to do? Think Robin, think. Call the ex and ask him to get off the train, come sweep up the mouse, and then get back on the train to get to work? No, that wasn’t going to work. What to do? I eventually reached out to a friend and asked him if he’d come help me. And, like good friends do, he got out of bed and drove 20 minutes away to come sweep up the mouse. Thank God for friends!

Now the mouse is dead and gone and I can get back to mourning the lost of my great aunt. I pray to God, if there is a next time, you’ll be here to handle it because I’m not built for this, and I don’t know how many more times I can call a friend.

I Didn’t Fit In


Dear Future Husband,

What a busy weekend it’s been. It’s now late Sunday night and I’ve just come in from an all-white day party in the city, thrown by one of the local chapters of my sorority. There were about 500 people in attendance, 400 of us were women. The music was great as were the hors D’oeuvres. I danced by myself, while eating a slice of pizza.

I hoped to meet you there. I hoped that you’d look past the other 399 beautiful women and see me from across the patio. Then you’d make your way over to me and say, “you don’t look like you’re having much fun.” And I’d respond with some witty retort, which you’d think was funny. We’d spend the next fifteen minutes talking, before being pulled away by a buddy of yours, but not before asking for my number. I know this all sounds dreamy, and honestly, though I hoped for it, I knew before I ever made it to the event that it wouldn’t happen. Not because I don’t think it could’ve, because I believe all things are possible. I just knew that it wouldn’t, and had resigned myself to enjoying the event without you.

Well, after two hours of standing and watching the crowds take pics, dance, buy drinks and stand around in huddles talking and laughing, the Holy Spirit said, “You don’t fit in here,” and it was at that point I decided I should leave. Though I love being on the Chicago River on a beautiful Summer evening, He was of course right. I don’t, for many different reasons, fit in with that crowd, so I quietly left the party and made my way home.

Welp, future husb, it’s late and I’m sleepy. so I’ll write you later. Good night.