You don't know me, but I have two kids, a muffin top, and a mortgage; and I'm on the downward coast to 40. Don't worry though: I still love you and totes think about you like, every single day!
I doodle your name in my imaginary notebook and put Peter Gabriel on single-song repeat just so I can imagine you standing on my lawn with a boom box and letting me make up with you after a huge fight right in the middle of your kick boxing class.
I totally support the fact that you don't want to "buy or sell or process anything bought, sold, or processed." You can just be my kick boxer boyfriend forever and help me with my fear of flying.
I know I'm not 19 and on my way to Oxford, but you can come live with me here in Juneau! (My dad would totally approve of you, I promise). All I would need you to do is sew an Elsa costume, cook a bunch of tofu stir fry, and wipe a four year old's ass every now and then.
Deal?
Love,
One Hot Mess
