Dear future hubster, I want to dance! I am not really good at it, and I'm shy and bashful most of the time, and get nervous about how I look and whether I move in a ridiculous way (talking about insecurities, huh), but now I really want to go! Some tacky music from our youth would do; you know, something that would make Matti laugh in disbelief. It's ok if we look ridiculous and people think we are drunk, let's just go and dance and laugh.
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Dear future hubster, a non-representative and non-exhaustive track list for driving home from home (both ways) in May 2013 would look like this: the obvious: the one-you-wouldn't-think-will-get-this-much-airtime: the brand new from a not-so-brand-new: the "we believe it's summer so it will be summer soon": The lumberjack: the "hey! Who are you? I like you!": (I swear the girl looks like she lived in our dorm) the "I keep thinking it's her but I'm not convinced but then it is indeed her": And the bonus, because I'm very proud that the content of my trunk is approved by them:
Dear future hubster, I don't only miss you when I have troubles I don't want to face alone. It's a lot more melancholic not having you around when I have joy to share. Little things, like the first spring evening on the balcony; when they fly the blue-white flag for the Octave; a windy Sunday afternoon up at the castle's ruins... it would all be a bit sweeter if you could only be there with me.
Dear future hubster, I've been diagnosed with a severe case of wanderlust long ago. You need to know that this is a permanent condition and thus doesn't get healed. Sometimes the symptoms are milder, but that's temporary. We need to travel; I love being somewhere else, I love exploring the unknown and taking a piece of it with me. Would you go with me?