Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, when did I get hooked on Linkin Park?

Dear future hubster, we must go on road trips. Or long drives. I love being in a car with somebody I trust, care for, am interested in. I love being completely left to the grace of destiny and the person who is at the wheel. In charge. I love the feeling of going somewhere while being basically still. And that we cannot get away from each other as we are locked in the car. Then you'd have all your time for me.

Dear future hubster, I do understand what offside means. I even recognize Michel Platini on the tribune. (Is it just me, or all UEFA officials have the same tie?) But that doesn't stop me from 1. doing my nails during Poland-Russia and 2. noticing how Andriy Shevchenko looks like Brandon Flowers.

Dear future hubster, I think you should be proud of me. I don't panick any more when I realize I missed my turn. I just decide I turn around at the next roundabout and everything will be fine. Ok, the next roundabout may be a few kilometers away, but hey! one step at the time, ok?

Dear future hubster, I know it's going to sound weird, but I kinda hope that your feet stink. Because, honestly, after a day of wearing shoes and tights, mine, well... I just want to blame it on you.