I don’t wanna grow up, future wife

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, love.

I quit collecting baseball cards many moons ago because I thought it was a childish pursuit.

I quit reading comic books for the same reason.

I even quit writing in my teens because I didn’t think girls would like a guy who writes. Man, did I miss the boat on that one.

I don’t like quitting things. And I don’t want to do it anymore.

Love, every year, after the first snowfall, I am going to toss one snowball at you. I just am. I’ll toss it lightly. And I won’t hit your noggin. But I am going to toss it.

On Sunday nights, I am going to roll up in our duvet – like a Peter Burrito! – and watch Bob’s Burgers, as I wait for you to join me for The Amazing Race.

I’m going to randomly hop in the shower with you.

And I want us to do all kinds of fun ridiculous things as a couple.

Stuff we create together.

Isn’t that always the best stuff?!

I want you to send me Snapchats from across the room with you wearing a tiara. Or a bonnet. Or whatever other damn thing you feel like putting on your head.

I want to send you Snapchats of me in a tiara too!

I want to carry on conversations with nothing by dialog from Almost Famous, or lyrics from Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.”

I want you to secretly record my Snoopy Happy Dance and threaten to put it on Twitter.

I want to steal your phone and hold it over your head to make sure that never happens, lady.

I want to watch the entire run of The West Wing in a hybrid pillow/blanket fort, that I insist we reinforce with couch cushions because, you know, I started university as an engineering student.

I want fun and silly and ridiculous and tears of joy and howls of laughter and holding hands and hugging and catching breath and inside jokes in outside voices and creating moments and memories and chemistry that makes everyone else jealous and of knowing, without the teeniest tiniest doubt, that no one else in the world could ever fit this well with us.

I’ll take my responsibilities seriously.

I’ll take you seriously.

I’ll take us seriously.

I just won’t take me too seriously.

I can’t.

I lose some of my favourite parts of myself when I try.

And we don’t want that. I’m a friggin’ delight.

We’ll pay our bills.

We’ll be good citizens.

But, holy crap, we’re going to be lovable goofballs!

Babe, I need someone who will play with me in the night, because she knows the responsibility of being a grown up will still be there in the morning


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