Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, what they say is tre, life is too short to drink bad wine. But if you don't listen to "them", and happen to drink bad wine, boy, your day will suddenly become soooooo long. 

Dear future hubster, I have expressed several times before that I enjoy sleeping like a starfish, and that a king size bed, especially under a mosquito net, is the perfect size for one person, but to be honest, there are days, especially under a mosquito net, when a king size bed is simply too big, even for a starfish like me.

Dear future hubster, in case you were wondering (and you should have been, because I was), yes, the stars are different here.

Dear future hubster, I'm not sure why the Universe keep throwing people in my way who don't know what they want, but it really isn't funny. Maybe the Universe is trying to make a point, hinting that my figuring out what I want has been long overdue. In that case, dear Universe, here it is: If money didn't matter, I would love to run a cultural centre that would provide comfort food for body and soul. We would have movie clubs, book clubs, listen-to-music clubs, organize cultural trips to Paris, London, Barcelona, Prague, and Werchter. We could even group them around a theme, and go on a classic Kafka-tour in Prague, and a Hemingway-spree in Spain. The brave ones could set out for a safari in Kenya, tracing the steps of Denys Finch Hatton. Food would always plenty, and on occasions healthy. We would later include a pool and a gym, because a good workout can bring along a good mood.  And no, it is in no way against my initial dream job of a drunk writer in Spa...

Dear future hubster, it's probably no news to anybody else on the face of this planet, but I just recently realized why the friends with benefits plan is not an attractive one to me. If we enjoy benefits of the bedroom and happen to be friends in any other aspect of life, then please somebody explain to me again, why is it not a good old(fashioned) relationship?