Dear Mr. Right,

My, we are just taking our good ol’ time, aren’t we? And by we, I mean you. Because I’m here. ALONE. WAITING. Just like that terrible “Lady in Waiting” book I had to read in youth group told me to. And you’re nowhere to be found. In fact,  I’m starting to really think you don’t exist. Or that you are the most tardy individual IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. And people keep saying stupid stuff like this to me.

It’s not like I’m asking for much here. I mean, really, all I’m looking for is a guitar- and drum-playing musician who can carry a tune, loves to read, isn’t overwhelmingly sensitive or annoyingly artistic, is British or has some equally delightful accent, is a sold-out Christian, and is kind and handsome and stable and generous and tall and considerate and manly and will make me feel like I’m floating on clouds and full of sheer joy EVERY MOMENT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

If you must know, I’ve formulated my criteria through the highly intelligent consumption of romance novels, chick flicks and love songs. And after the extensive research that led to the above list, I have also come to the conclusion that YOU MUST COMPLETE ME AND FULFILL EVERY EMOTIONAL NEED I EVER HAVE.

If you’re struggling to figure out what all of these shrewdly-chosen characteristics would look like combined, well, the best I can tell, you will be a mixture of Mr. Darcy from “Pride and Prejudice,” Bert from “Mary Poppins,” Eomer from “Lord of the Rings,” Captain von Trapp from “The Sound of Music,” and Matthew Crawley from “Downton Abbey.” That’s you, all right.

Quick side note. You also need to smell like soap, be able to carry me from a burning building (also known as the fireman’s test, where dragging will not result in a passing grade), wear pants that I can respect (a story too long and ridiculous to explain, but the standard remains), and be able to chop down a tree if necessary. The ability to fix things is a plus but not mandatory. However, you should be able to wield regular tools (i.e. hammer, screwdriver, wrench, drill, etc.) with more skill than me.

All of these details and standards have been vetted and agonized with the wisdom of a woman who bases her life on Jane Austen novels. Clearly, I know what I need and what I DESERVE. If you think I am asking too much, then HIT THE ROAD, BUDDY.

So where are you, Mr. Right?!?! You’re certainly taking your time. Sincerely, A woman who knows exactly what the love of her life looks like.

Coming soon: Dear Mr. Right, OK!!!! I swear I’m more reasonable/rational/not like a crazy person now. Promise.

4 thoughts on “Dear Mr. Right,

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