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.