Dear Eighteen year old me,
I know you’re thrilled to be loosing the ‘teen’, I know you have a lot of goals reserved for when you’re an adult, yes, I know you can’t wait simply to be old enough. Old enough to do a lot of things including date.
You will be twenty three someday and wish you didn’t say yes to your first boyfriend. You’re going to squirm and ache when you remember the things you did with someone that saw you as a stop along the way to being a man.
You’ll be counting exes and heartbreaks, just so you know.
You will wish you had observed rather than participated in this game called dating.
You will long for your innocence: when you still believed in Prince Charming and Knight in shining armors but what you’ll have is the ugly truth about men with a personal experience to hunt you.
Yes you will get up, dust yourself and move on but deep down inside of you you will wish you were whole and never got rejected.
For the right man. You’ll know him when he asks you to marry him and not to dinner.
For your husband not your ex-boyfriend in progress.
Just so you can get it right the first time because truth be told with every failed relationship there’s the death of something in your soul.
Simply because you’re wise.