This is how we roll

Dear future hubster,

on my mother's birthday I came to the realization that my family contains a high number of quietly strong women (and I'm not only trying to find a excuse for my bossy tendencies). Somehow life twisted and turned in ways that taught them to hold their own, come hell or high water, and so they do. 

But don't worry, dear future hubster; for we are lucky enough to have an equally high number of (sometimes quietly, sometimes critically, often invisibly) supportive men. You'll fit right in. 

There are cravings of all kinds

Dear future hubster,

I'm sure that you are already familiar with my somewhat peculiar eating habits (ice cream for breakfast, pesto from the jar, apple with cheese, really anything with cheese), and I certainly hope that you are somehow gaining valuable knowledge on other food-related behaviours of mine. The "How was your day" - "I need a drink" conversation is for rookies; there are days that can only be partially remedied by pizza (and generous amounts of cheese), or properly celebrated with some fabulous risotto (and generous amounts of cheese). Chronic "can't wake up in the morning" may require a peanut butter-banana milkshake, and weekend inactivity is probably a scream for a quinoa treatment.

See, dear future hubster, not all cravings are emotional. Some are, admittedly, but others may be simply a nutritional need.

Now you and I, we only have to figure out, on a case by case basis, whether we're lacking vitamins, or we're lacking love.

Sharing, again, is caring

Dear future hubster,

One of the many things I love about my best friends is that books always make a good gift. 

And that we are in such a deeply trusting and intimate relationship that we borrow each others' books. Clothes, occasionally. Kitchen devices, all the time. 

But really, how could one live without people who categorize books and music and movies by "you would like it", but can also introduce you to styles and genres and subjects one would have never thought of otherwise?

I may even make breakfast!

Dear future hubster,

try as I may, I don't like waking up alone on Sundays. On other days of the week I simply don't like waking up. I don't really mind sleeping alone, in fact, I'm growing increasingly fond of my weirdly sized bed (designed probably for the short (<175) and fat expat) under my mosquito net, but this Sunday morning business ain't that easy. 

So if you could please practice your teleporting skills during the week and try to show up next Sunday, that would be appreciated. I usually start thinking about getting up around 8-8:30.