Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, should it happen that your mother tongue and mine are not the same, please don't refrain from talking to me in any language that comes to your mind in the heat of the moment. I will interpret it as a sign of deep trust, feel honoured by it, and learn just enough of your language to understand you when you talk in your sleep.

Dear future hubster, I have to admit I lie about you sometimes. That is, when I'm asked. I lie about your existence because way too often that seems to be the only (or the only easy) way out of a conversation I have no interest in continuing any further.  Granted, I only lie about you to strangers. I answer "yes" without skipping a beat when asked if I'm in a relationship, when I know that the question and the conversation is proposing going out with the other person. I try to avoid further questions, but just in case, I usually have a somewhat coherent backup story - of my imaginary future hubster. How messed up is that. I feel guilty about lying, and especially that I tend to choose the easy way, instead of standing up for myself giving a speech on how my interest or lack thereof in somebody should be considered first. But sadly, more often than not, it's "hello, what's your name, I think you're pretty/cute/interesting/crazy/weird, do you ha...

Dear future hubster, I would like to inform you that under exceptional circumstances it could be acceptable to wake me up very early in the morning. At dawn, even.  Depending on the orientation of our home, watching the sunrise can be considered as exceptional circumstance, even though it happens every day. And regardless of the orientation, smelling the morning after a rainy night is worth the trouble. Summer mornings have a scent that makes the day start off well. Wake me up sometimes to take that smell in. Just don't try talking to me.

Dear future hubster, during years of struggling with all these candidates who ultimately turn out to be, well, not you, I have learned many things, about life, love, and myself.  Obvious it seems, this one is sometimes rather hard to go by: I want to be the person you love, but at the same time I need to remain the person I love. This is my baseline for all agreements and negotiations we may have. And of those, we will have many.

Dear future hubster, although I can't tell future, I think most of the time I will admire you for being so practical and straightforward and disciplined and determined. Occasionally, I will be annoyed by how hard it is to get to you, and will worry that I will never really manage. Mostly, I will happily live in the belief that you can't be harmed. You can be annoyed, disappointed, but not hurt. Until, inevitably, you are. Until that moment when a sudden and strong wave of cold fear for you washes over me, and I want to wrap you in something bulletproof and keep you somewhere safe. Until I can't sleep at night because I'm trying to figure out a way to protect you, knowing full well that ultimately, I can't. Still, I will pick up the light saber and kick ass when it's my turn. For both of us.