Dear Love of my Life who I do not even know till now,
Beware, I’ll slap you the moment I see you for the first time, for having made me wait for more than 2 and a half to 3 decades. Had you come a little early and embraced me the way I am, I wouldn’t have had to undergo so many inferiority complexes about how I look and behave.
Beware, I’ll be a highly possessive beloved, so keep your female friends a little away from yourself, please. Hand-written letters and hand-made cards will be so much more valuable to me than expensive presents. I’ll embarrass you as I’ll start playing with babies and toddlers in malls, temples, gardens and ask their names from their mommies and look at you with bright sparkle in my eyes and a childlike wide grin. You’ll have to remind me of my identity every other day. I’ll need you to remind me that you still find my small hands cute, I’ll want you to remind me that my hearty smile was what you fell for. Whenever you’re travelling away from me, I’ll need you to call up or text and say that you’re missing the mole on my neck and song dedications off and on could be an added delight. I might ask and confirm if you actually, truly still love me right when you’re applying the vermillion on my forehead. We’ll visit the Times Square in the New York City on New Years. We’ll practise yoga together on the sand of all the beaches of the world. Run in the smartest of running shoes early every morning. On the days when the moon is full, we’ll sleep on the white floor of our white lobby with white walls in white sheets under the little moon light that’ll come in from the white, open French windows and then begin our day with huge mugs of tea the next morning. We’ll taste all the available tea and coffee flavours around the world from tiny cafes.
I’ll want you to boldly hold my hand and dance with me in public places. We’ll cook or teach or earn together, like a team, a solid team.
Beware, you’ll find me buying books and plants even if I forget to water the plants and read the books. Beware, I can be an animal very often and way too much when I am about to menstruate. I swear I’ll respect your rod of honour, shall write eroticas for you, send across erotic pictures to you, childishly ask you to write and dedicate poetry to me. I’d really like if you are naughty with me (only with me) and I’ll be super naughty with you, like, super naughty.
Yours Lovingly,
The woman who has been waiting now.
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