Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, during the yearly routine of watching Love Actually (after having convinced/outvoted Little P that this is better than the Grinch) I realized that there is a part that might very possibly be applicable to us. And it's not where you, returning politician tell me that I weigh a lot. And while I might find your British accent very cute (provided you have one), it's not where my four super sexy sisters and I invite you to stay in our tiny house where we wear no pyjamas either, sorry. But since the topic of accents came up: when we decide to make it official, and if you choose to discuss this matter with my family, you are probably in for some linguistic hurdles in the style of Jaime and Aurelia. While they will certainly appreciate your (supposedly) broken Hungarian, and will do their best to understand what you're trying to say, they will also be mildly unsuccesful at trying to hide their excitement that finally somebody is brave enough to put a ring...

Dear future hubster, you probably know by now what I think about spending outrageous amounts of money on things we think we need to have because society tells us to (overpriced Valentine's Day's dinners being a case in point).  So if you really feel like you want to get me a diamond ring for when you finally work up the courage to tell me what I already know (that is, that we are such a uniquely hilarious, nerdy, caring, stubborn, brave, hot team that it would be a crime against humanity for us to not become uniquely hilariously nerdy, etc old together), please make sure that the diamond is a lab-grown one. They cost a little less outrageous amount of money, and are definitely blood-free. Also, I can tell everybody how hip my soon-to-be hubster is. One of the many reasons why I chose him.  

Dear future hubster, maybe the Universe sent me to so many weddings this year so I can revisit my revolutionary ideas about my - our - own wedding. And so I have been. Revisiting, that is. My earlier idea of "let's just go to the city hall you and I and keep it very low-key". I still want it low-key, but maybe not at the city hall. Can we deploy the officiant to some intimate location where we are not rushed? Actually, can we get somebody who knows us to officiate it? You know, the person who would make fun of both of us but would also be touched that they get to do it, because clearly we were made for each other, and we're cute and gorgeous and there are a whole bunch of beautiful people in attendance, so they also get to be a little nervous. As for the beautiful people in attendance: you were right, I actually don't want it to be just you and me. Sometimes I forget about the importance of simply showing up, but then I'm reminded of it again when I le...

Dear future hubster, you were talked about a lot today. On a strictly professional basis, I had to make up scenarios in which you are not Hungarian, or stay at home watering the plants, or stay behind at the duty station with the children until the end of the school year, or have a home country we go to on home leave. Or any combination of the above, you versatile hubster of mine.  When discussing establishment of entitlements, I also made reference to Harry Potter. For good measure. 

Dear future hubster, when the parallel lines of I love you and you love me meet, will that mean that we've reached infinity? Will that be the end of everything, or the beginning of it all?  Or is infinity just a synonym for never, a future that doesn't become present?  Or have we been there already? That one point where parallel lines meet, have we passed it? Are we on the other side of infinity?