Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster,  have you ever thought that some love stories with some lovers are very much like a city, a very particular scenery? Like a Vienna lover is reserved, quietly majestic and definitely not ever in a rush; a Paris love is so Truly Madly Deeply but also somewhat arrogant and too charming to be taken seriously; Berlin is very hip, probably unshaved, has a few radical views and some residual teenage angst.  And a New York love? Very much like the city itself - not as much in that he doesn't sleep, but that he makes you want to be top of the heap.  And in so many other ways. Overwhelming and addictive. Sudden and unexpected at first, but cozy and comforting as you rush through the noise and find a sweet, undisturbed corner. Exciting, with something shiny and new every day, and intimidating, as nothing ever is looked at for a second time. Makes you feel glow; makes you feel replaceable. Makes you believe while remaining completely unbelievable. You f...

Dear future hubster, there will be times when I will want you to call me, no matter how late or early it is, no matter how many time zones or blocks away we are. I will want you to call even though we will both know that I have absolutely nothing of importance to say, that all I will be able to convey is a couple of baaaaaaaahs and other inarticulate grunts, and then move on to descriptions of my inner feelings: that is, my tummy being shaky and my head cloudy.  You are allowed to laugh at me, and to treat me like a whiny little puppy, which I am, because the important thing is that you called, to say without saying that you care. 

Dear future hubster, I think dragging suitcases through countries should be a legit workout. Potentially an established sport.

Dear future hubster, if I am still in New York when you decide to pop the question, I think I can make some concessions about the location.  The High Line falls within the acceptable category, so does the Brooklyn Bridge (direction Manhattan preferred), and frankly, most waterfront spots could qualify in the right lighting conditions. If you have a slight feeling that this may be a tad bit cliché, you are not wrong, my dear future hubster. It is going to be cliché, a clumsy commonplace. Except that it will be happening to you and me, and we are totally unique snowflakes, and so will be our clumsy commonplace proposal. We can still proceed to the shoe store after. 

Dear future hubster, you know (or you will know with time), how I react to people thinking - and especially telling me - how amazing my life is. It's pretty much a fairy tale, right? With all the travels and living in this gigantic, envied-by-all city of blinding lights, working in buildings with several elevators, city and river views, having friends and flatmates from countries most people never think of. It has to be amazing, and I should be overwhelmed with joy every waking minute. Except, I'm not. I'm whiny and I complain a lot, and, by the way, cities of blinding lights and buildings with elevators and river views don't come for free. Nor do travels, not even flatmates and friends. There are days when your sassy future wife is more sad than sassy, and she feels lost and helpless. Probably also guilty, for not being overwhelmed with joy, for not feeling the fairy tale. But then, sometimes, magic does happen. Days when yours truly feels sorry for herself...