An open letter to my future guy:
Dear next boyfriend/lover/guy person who comes along,
I have a handful of simple requests which I thought I’d put down in writing.
I’d like to hope that you don’t use too many exclamation marks. When in just about every situation just the one will suffice.
I would also like it if you weren’t scared of spiders or snakes. That’s my job.
And I don’t want to sound too demanding or anything, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t find it hysterically funny to fart in bed and then trap me under the duvet with it.
That would be awesome, thank you.
And I’d quite like it if you didn’t buy me an apron for my birthday.
Or a porcelain figurine of two dolphins frolicking in a small porcelain ocean.
(Wait, let’s extend that to include any figurines. Figurines are out.)
Also, please note that I will not be able to loan you any money at any point in our relationship. No matter how great your debt/idea/scheme/business plan/drug habit is. You should know this now to avoid disappointment at a later stage.
And I know I might be getting a tad demanding over here, but it would also be great if you had a job. And while I can’t argue that it does bring home the bacon, being a drug dealer doesn’t really count as a job.
This is going to be great, I can’t wait.
All my love in advance,