[FW]: Notes to Future Husband

by cynthiarendon

There are only so many things you can say about waterfalls and meadows, so today’s Fantasy Wednesday will be a bit different. At the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy and maudlin, here is a letter to my future husband. I don’t know if I will have one, nor am I concerned with finding one at the moment, but I reread some of Jane Eyre yesterday . . . and you know what that can do to a girl. On this Wednesday, I fantasize that our love will be like this. “Our” being me and a J.Crew model. 😉

There’s something about wearing your guy’s clothes — pajamas, flannel shirts, oxford shirts — it’s just intimate.

Future Husband,

It’s very of silly and excessive of me that I should want my own pair of navy blue sweatpants. It is so impractical because we both know I will steal yours — the pants and matching thermal top — and flaunt them right in front of you on Sunday mornings, while I make your favorite little breakfast.

We both know I will steal your basketball shorts and worn-in sweatshirts. Your light-blue oxford shirt, the one with the skinny white stripes, is in incredible danger of never being seen by you again. It just goes so well with that black pencil skirt of mine, I’m sorry. Your warm moccasin slippers receive my feet in hurried movements when I can’t find mine (and yes, I know you think I purposefully lost them, but I swear I didn’t). Your slight and bright-white v-necks are the perfect fix when I put them on to water the lawn or walk our Corgi — hanging baggily on my shoulders, cuffed at the sleeves.

Your clothes will be our clothes, your wardrobe will be our wardrobe, and you willingly agreed to this the first moment you let me borrow your shorts (complete with pockets) to play that pick-up tennis game. You agreed the first time you said I love you.

I don’t do this to be selfish, and I’m sure you secretly enjoy the fact that you’re not wearing your slippers because I’m halfway up the driveway getting our mail. Know that my love for you is revelled in the moments I wear what belongs to you. These are the moments when I treasure you on my body. It just feels so right, as though we are joined as one; you are a part of me.

Yours,

Cynthia

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