you won’t remember all of the names, future wife

Hiiiii, baby.

It’s been too long since I’ve written to you on here.

Every summer, during the beginning of August/end of July long weekend, my family on my Dad’s side have a BBQ. It’s a bunch of people. And a buuuunch of food. It’s fun.

And I want to take you.

I want to introduce you to everyone. It’s a lot of people, my darling one.

I want them all to be smitten with you too. (How could they not be?)

When you seemingly aren’t paying attention, I want them to give me impressed looks and nods at how amazing you are on every level.

I want my face to say, “I KNOW!”

I want some saucy bastard to ask me, “How in the world did you land her?”

I’ll say, “Oh. It’s ’cause I’m so adorable.” Then I’ll take a swig from my water bottle and wander over to where you are.

I want to warn you beforehand that it isn’t a super fancy event, as you’re modelling dresses for me that make me need many more swigs of cold water from the aforementioned bottle.

I want you to say, “That’s sweet of you to give me a heads-up, but I dress for me, babe.”

I want to think, “Yeeeah. I am going to need to refine my clothes game a little. Is fancy plaid a thing?”

When your outfit is selected, I want to stand next to you in the mirror. Now I’m a legit 6’4″. And that really is as glorious as it sounds. Because…

1) You can wear heels as high as you want and I’ll still be taller! Remember seeing Katie Holmes towering over Tom Cruise? That was an affront to nature. And suuuuuuuch as waste of a leggy brunette. Speaking as a leggy brunette(ish) myself… (Bonus: For standing hugs, you can press yourself right into me and I’ll squeeze you up right nice. You’ll feel so hugged and loved and cuddled and protected.)

2) If there is a lightning storm, I’ll totes get smoked first.

Did I mention that the BBQ is at a beach house? Well it is!

After spending time with my family, and let’s face it, most will be hanging out with the wonderfulness that is my Adorably Cute Niece, we’re going to take a walk down to the beach.

Actually if you took me up on the option to wear giant heels, we’ll drive down to the beach. Either way, when we get to the sand, you’ll hop out of your shoes. And, knowing you like I do, I suspect that you’ll hand them to me and excitedly head right down to the water’s edge.

“Is it cold?” you’ll ask.

“Wellllll. It’s all relative.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You? You’ll freeze your distractingly spectacular butt.”

“I’m tough!”

“Oh I know.”

“Wanna go skinny dipping?” you’ll ask in that way you know will cutely fluster me a little.

“It’s daylight! Families are down at the other end of the beach.”

“Are you yellow?”

“No. I’m so pale that I could be translucent, but that couldn’t be further from the point.”

I want us to hold hands as we walk down along the water. You venturing further down as the waves go out. And then scampering up again when the Atlantic comes back and you’re up to your ankles.

“Eeeeeeeeee. Ooooh! Ahhh!,” you’ll say as you almost climb up on me.

“Cold?”

“Uhm… no…”

I want us to keep walking, and for you to squeeze my hand every time the love overwhelms.

I want that to be frequently.

I want you to bring up the episode of Friends when Chandler has to pee on Monica’s leg after the jelly fish incident.

I want to reply by taking another swig of water.

I want you to laugh.

And snort a little.

“Is this one the places that is in the running for where you’re going to propose to me?” you’ll ask, while I’m lost in watching the light warm wind play with the bottom of your dress.

“Who said that I’ve thought ahead that far?”

“Come on…”

“That’s a big step.”

“Come. On.”

“I’m not really one of those romantic planner types.”

“Babe…”

“I started thinking about it the very second I knew you existed.”

I want you to smile smugly. Even more smugly than you realize.

I want to stop walking, and pull back a little on your hand until you do too. You’ll turn to me a little surprised.

And then I want to kiss you.

I want to kiss you like I have so many times before, and will so many many many more times in the future, but still have it feel like the first time.

The first time when I kissed you and was so excited that I said something like, “Oh my God… We just kissed!”

I was too excited to remember the exact wording.

I want to kiss you soft and slow and feel it build.

I want my left hand on that spot just above your hip that weakens me, and my right brushing strands of your gorgeous hair out of your face.

I want you to try to get as physically close to me as humanly possibly as you kiss back with everything you have.

I want to hear, but not really, the waves lapping gently.

I want to know, but not really, how gorgeous a setting we’re in.

I want to feel, but know I’ll never be able to fully articulate, how deeply I love you.

I want you to pull back for just a few moments and look at me with your, “I know. Me too.” face.

Then I want to kiss you more.

And when it grows in deliciously excruciating intensity, I want to pull back, brush my hand on your soft, smooth cheek and say,

“Ask me again about the skinny dipping.”

What do you say, love?

Wanna come to the party with me?

I love you.

Love,
Peter

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photo credit: RYDER BEACH HOUSES TRURO, Credit: Elaine & Gordon Rondeau via photopin (license)

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