Bring your own

Dear future hubster,

I know you know I will love you and cherish you and feed you and will tell you all kinds of things you never wanted to hear (including, but not limited to what the dentist said when both his hands were in my mouth, or which song I try to hum when I'm crawling around in period cramps), but please do not, even in a shared bed, expect that I would share my duvet. You'd be in for a lifelong disappointment.

That, or the rains down in Africa

Dear future hubster,

if anybody asks me what I miss from my Goma life (and I suspect some will), I'm just going to say that I miss seeing the Southern Cross. It's about as romantic as pretentious as anything I would be expected to say, and is as abstract and un-relatable for them but personal yet unreal for me as anything else I could come up with.