Thursday, December 08, 2005

The First


I don't know your name yet, but I've decided to write to you anyway. I was inspired by a fellow blogger and have decided to tread the murky waters for (hopefully) the last time. I dream of you often, though. You take on different faces but there are always similarities. You have eyes that sparkle and a smile that makes me go weak at the knees. Once, you had a name: Lavender. However, since I've never met or even heard of anybody with that name I will simply address my letters to you as Dearest. It has a nice ring, don't you think? Who knows, maybe this blog will lead you to me.

Oh, the blog title. There's this new show on tv called "How I Met Your Mother." I'm hopelessly hooked on it. The quote is from that show as well.

I want to say right off the bat that I'm sorry I haven't always believed in you. It's the hardest thing for me, to believe that I will meet you. I'm turning 30 in a few months. Some days I'm fine but others I feel as if time is running out. I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone. I'm sorry that I was weak, that I almost spent the rest of my life with him because I was too scared of ending up with nothing. Would you be disappointed in me if you knew the number of times I made that mistake? I'm sorry too for not believing in myself, for making excuses for not being the best version of myself.

Lately, I've been designing my dream wedding dress in my head. You know at the end of Dirty Dancing, when they're dancing on stage? Her skirt swirls around, so light and delicate. I want my dress to be made out of that material and this pale grey color - the cloud's silver lining, maybe. That color. I want it to have a low waist and spaghetti straps and I want the waist to be defined by crystals. I want it to be different, to be quintessentially me.

I suppose I should tell you that I talk to you sometimes. I have for years - even when I was with my ex. I love talking to you, but it makes me sad. I wonder how you can be so real to me, when we've never met - when we might never meet. I'm Jewish, as you know, and my religion tells me that God picked you out for me forty days before I was born. As much as I'd love to believe that, I won't be the hypocrite and believe just for the sake of assurance of you. Sometimes I do believe in God though, so I guess it's just as ok to believe in you. Don't ask me which is harder though, I don't know.

I'm a work in progress, dearest. Almost thirty years old, I'm just now getting my Bachelor's this month. A Bachelor's in Literature, to be exact. Yes, your future wife isn't very practical. I'm passionate, though, which I think is more important. What do I plan on doing with it? I'm hoping to find a job editing with a newspaper, magazine or academic publisher. No, no editing novels. I couldn't stand spending my days pouring over other people's successes when I haven't finished my own novel. I'm going to look locally first, then branch out to other locations I have enjoyed - New York City, Baltimore/DC, San Francisco, etc. I hope I pick your city. One of the things I'm afraid of is missing you by chance. What if I pick the job in Baltimore and you live in Chicago? I know, have faith. I'll try, dearest.

I have one more confession to make for this first letter. Once a week or so, I randomly flip through a couple dozen blogs hoping to find you. I guess I've always assumed that when I saw you, I would know. I hope I'm right. I haven't found you yet, but I promise I'll keep looking.

I am, as ever,


At 11:03 AM, Blogger SpangledAngel said...

I am so proud of you, Adrienne! You've taken a very good step towards being happy and understanding yourself. And I like learning new things about you as I read your letters. It's fun! Good luck with your classes! I'm really looking forward to reading more!



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