Future Husband, Can We Come to an Arrangement?

Dear Future Husband,

Whatever happened to the days of arranged marriages? When exactly did that concept go out of style? (That is a hypothetical question, I really don’t need to hear the spiels about “freedom of choice” and “true love” and “Oh, I don’t know, Ima…prob around the same time that fathers stopped selling their daughters for cows.”)

But seriously. Take a chill pill and PAUSE. And hear me out. As I think back upon my life, my parents have actually arranged some of my best friendships EVER.

I’m trying to make a point, so a trip down memory lane is inevitable.

High School
My parents and I decided that I should switch schools for high school. I was super excited, but the “lack of friends” issue threatened to pose some serious problems for this new kid on the first day of ninth grade in a Pre-K through 12 school where most of the students had known each other for at least eight years. So, my dad took matters into his own hands and played matchmaker.

He gave me the phone number of a popular, well-liked, established 10th grade girl at this new school and instructed me to call her and ask her to be my friend. I’m not even kidding. Or exaggerating. So…because he said I had to…I called her, and literally said, “Hi. My name is Ima. I’m new at your school next year. Will you be my friend?”

Under normal circumstances, any other girl would have hung up the phone and gone to extraordinary efforts to completely avoid this weirdo stranger. BUT, her mom was friends with my dad, so she was already instructed to say yes. BINGO! Instant friend.

I then proceeded to ask her the MOST important questions about my new school. Do I wear tennis shoes or Doc Martins? Ankle socks or tube socks? Jansport or Gap booksack? Bag lunch or school lunch? She very politely answered my questions and even talked to me on the first day of school! And the day after that. And the day after that. And she has now been one of my very best friends for 17 years.

College
Since I did just fine being the new kid at high school, I decided to pack my bags and go to a college 10 hours away from home…where I knew NO ONE. On move-in day, my mom and dad did all the usual “mom and dad stuff.” My dad went to every Home Depot, Walmart, Target and Lowes within a 30-mile radius, while my mother directed the unpacking and decorating frenzy.

Little did we know, the EXACT SAME scenario was taking place in the dorm room directly across from mine.

But, alas, fate was soon realized as the dads serendipitously bumped into each other at EVERY SINGLE retail location, and the mothers – exasperated with their soon-to-be-independant teenage daughters, no doubt – began talking to each other. After a day of parental bonding, my mother informed me that I WOULD be best friends with the girl across the hall. Since I was still “soon-to-be-independant” and therefore “not-quite-independant,” I said OK. And the girl across the hall has now been one of my very best friends for 13 years.

So, you see…an arranged marriage COULD possibly work. The only problem is, I asked my parents their thoughts on the matter. My mother emphatically said, “HECK NO,” and my dad said he didn’t need any cows. I guess we’re back to you finding me yourself.

PS. If I called you and said, “Hi, my name is Ima. Will you be my husband?” what are my chances that would work?

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

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Future Husband, Can We Come to an Arrangement?

Future Husband, Let’s Talk Success

Dear Future Husband,
What does success look like to you? I’m assuming that you are SUPER successful, because you’re most likely in your 30’s and have been SO focused on advancing your career that you haven’t had time to find me yet.

But I ask that pertinent question because I’m facing a SERIOUS success-defining dilemma this week. You see, according to Facebook, on March 30, 2014, I defined the metrics for success:

“Success = taking the Christmas tree down before Easter”

As you are probably aware, Easter is THIS COMING WEEKEND. And, while the entire Christian community is celebrating the death and resurrection of our Savior, I am, apparently, still SUCCESSFULLY celebrating His birth. Yes, my Christmas tree is still up. And decorated. Please don’t judge me.

It’s not so much that I LOOOOOOOVE Christmastime. Don’t get me wrong…I really do. I am a meticulous gift wrapper and an impeccable seasonal decorator. I could give Martha Stewart a run for her money…as long as we are only competing for the Christmas title. As mentioned above, I’m lucky if the house is devoid of yuletide in time for Valentine’s Day, Mardi Gras, St. Patrick’s and Easter.

And it’s not that I’m lazy. It takes HOURS and DAYS to put those decorations up. Which means it will take HOURS AND DAYS to take them down. And ain’t nobody – especially Ima – got time for that.

Instead, I’d like to think that I’m efficient. You see, if I can keep the tree up just a liiiiiitle bit longer, I can claim that I’m on the ball and AHEAD of the game. That certainly sounds like success to me.

PS. In order for this to work, I need you to be OK with decorating for Christmas before Thanksgiving…touchy subject for some, I know.

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Let’s Talk Success

Future Husband, You Can Unload

Dear Future Husband,
There are some things in this world that I REALLY care about. Please see below:

Care Thing Number 1: Grammar
Now, I know I take a few creative grammatical liberties in these letters, but DO NOT let that fool you. I am HIGHLY passionate about the proper use of the objective and nominative cases. Slept through your freshman year English class? Let me explain:

In our future house, we will not have one single picture of you and I. Why? Because our future house will be FILLED with pictures of you and ME. And, if you don’t want the technical grammar lesson of why it’s correct to say “me” instead of “I,” (It’s because “of” is a preposition and “me” is the OBJECT of the preposition. And the OBJECT of the preposition takes the…duh…objective case. And, of the personal pronouns, “I” is considered nominative and “me” is an objective pronoun) then just say it right the first time.

Care Thing Number 2: Proper Loading of the Dishwasher
Yes. There is a RIGHT way to load a dishwasher and many VERY WRONG ways to do so. My way is the right way. Plates go on the bottom (in descending order of size…largest plate near the edge, smallest towards the middle); cups live on the top. And, World War III MIGHT break out if you put a pot ON TOP of a plate or a cup. Yes, it may technically “fit,” but you would be wrong. Pending the size and setup of our future dishwasher, we will determine where the bowls go (but I’m sure I will have an opinion).

Care Thing Number 3: Unnecessary Noises
By now, you should already know this about me. But it is SO worth repeating. For a refresher, check out “Future Husband, I think You Might Be Cursed.” Thanks.

Contrary to what you MIGHT be thinking, I am NOT OCD. I’m actually very easy going. Just don’t smack your gum while improperly loading the dishwasher and simultaneously butchering the English language. Other than that, we’ll be just fine.

PS. Actually, how about I just go ahead and load the dishwasher? You can unload.

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, You Can Unload

Future Husband, Third Time’s a Charm

Dear Future Husband,
I attended a wedding this past weekend. I’m not going to lie…it was awesome. It definitely set the bar preeeeeeeetty high for ours. Assuming you enjoy great company, awesome music, sweet dance moves and wine, you’d have loved it. (Let’s be honest, if you do NOT enjoy any of the aforementioned nouns, you are NOT my future husband…) (Ok, FINE, I won’t qualify you…but, please?!?!).

Anyhoo. The fateful moment – the bouquet toss – came towards the end of the reception. Usually, I ALWAYS conveniently have to use the ladies room at this point in the evening. But I clearly wasn’t paying attention, and, before I knew it, I was standing in the midst of the herd (thank GOODNESS there WAS a herd so that I wasn’t out there solo dolo).

Now, the details are kind of hazy…but the next thing I knew, the bouquet was no longer in the bride’s hands…

It was in mine. 

CRAP! CRAP! CRAP!

Then, I ACTUALLY tossed it to someone else. WHO DOES THAT?! Me, apparently. But, approximately 200 people witnessed the initial catch, so there was no going back. I KNOW approximately 200 people witnessed it, because, before the night was over, at least half of them (slight exaggeration..maybe 7…OK, 4) sought me out to tell me congratulations. They congratulated me with such conviction and enthusiasm that you would have thought the wedding planner on hand had already penciled my pending nuptials in her planner. I wish.

I, however, just smiled and thanked each one of them. I chose NOT to reveal that this was my THIRD lucky catch. Clearly bouquets one and two weren’t made of the right kind of superstitious flowers. Oh well, SURELY third time’s a charm?

PS. I know the other saying is “three strikes, you’re out,” but I’m going to selectively ignore that one right now.

Xoxo,

Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Third Time’s a Charm