Dearest Future Wife,

I know we haven’t met yet, but I wanted to start writing to you anyway. I’ll confess straight away that these letters aren’t really for you; they’re for me. I think about a tremendous amount of stuff: us, what we’ll be like together, how things will work. And, really, it all seems so hazy.

Once upon a time, I thought I understood relationships. “Love theory,” like “music theory,” I guess. I talked about my ideas a lot with my roommate freshman year. I’m convinced that he thought my idealism was folly. (Or at least that I was an idiot.) And, to a certain degree, it was (and I was). Raw idealism never gets anyone anywhere. Not in politics. Not in relationships.

It’s not that I’m not an idealist; rather, I’ve decided that things just aren’t going to work out the way I want them to. And that’s fine. Our story won’t be a fairy tale. It will be us, our friends, our families, and God against the world. But I don’t think I would have it any other way. If I’m going to pursue God with you, I’m not sure that I want an easy path. I want the blistering heat to forge our bond stronger. I want the long road to give us great endurance. I want the cliffs to teach us trust.

Those are my ideas of what a relationship is, and I want them out in the open early on. We’re going to need to talk early and often about what we’re doing, why we’re together, and how we’re going to run this thing. I’m not talking some strategic micromanagement (“On Tuesdays, we drinking strawberry icecream floats and try to comfort the other while having a brainfreeze of our own.”).

But part of me also wants the whirlwind. I want to be that cute couple that makes people puke when they see us. Not the PDA kind. That really is puke-worthy. Just, you know, a couple of genuinely caring people, that others might say are “in love.”

But I wouldn’t say that. At least not in the beginning. You need to know that. I’m not going to say “I love you” until I mean it. Until I really mean it. Love isn’t just some feeling of connectedness. Love is an action, a commitment, something way beyond people at the beginning of a relationship. So, don’t say it to me a few weeks in. That’s a bad move. I won’t say it back. You’ll get offended. It’ll just be bad. Actually you won’t say it. Because you’re my future wife, and we will have already talked about this. Probably at length. I tend to ramble. A lot. Which brings me to my last point…

Lastly, at least for now, you need to know that I’m flawed. I’ll tell you up front, I’m definitely not perfect. Not even close. And you’re going to find these flaws. And it won’t be pretty. I’ll need your grace when they come up. Repeatedly. I’m sorry. You’re going to marry a very imperfect dude. The good news is that you probably feel the same way about yourself, and I’m going to marry you anyway. No illusions. We’re both crappy at this “life” thing. But we’ll slog through the mud together, and we’ll be happy doing it.

I have a lot more to say, and I look forward to writing to you again next week.

Sincerely,
Your Future Husband