Future Husband, I Felt Sparks

Dear Future Husband,
Before I begin, I believe it is direly necessary to make it ABSOLUTELY clear that what I’m about to say has NOTHING to do with my grandparents or Sheesa.

Ok. With the disclaimer out of the way, allow me to continue:

Future Husband, as you might be aware, today is Valentine’s Day – the day the coupled-off world celebrates love and passion and feelings and sparks. So, in honor of this holiday, I’m going to risk being risqué and tell you about the time(s) I personally experienced sparks in the…GASP…bedroom…

Wait for it…

…at my grandparents house…while sharing a bed with Sheesa…when I was eight years old…and nine years old…AND ten years old (it happened a lot).

As I’ve mentioned before, there were ALWAYS charged emotions when Sheesa and I were forced to share a bed. Mainly because she breathed and moved her little toe, which obviously shook the ENTIRE bed and unnerved me to no end.

But the experience at my grandparents’ house was different. Little did we know, there was ANOTHER charge between those sheets. And it was called static electricity.*

Being eight or nine or ten years old, I did not understand this phenomenon. All I knew was that every time I – or Sheesa – moved, SPARKS LITERALLY FLEW.

And it scared the living crap out of me.

At any given moment, I thought we were one toss or turn away from catching the bed on fire and burning down the house. Thankfully, that never happened.

*Being the curious, intellectual and ever-learning woman that I am, I reached out to my high school Chemistry Honors/Chemistry II AP/Physics AP teacher for an explanation. Here it is: “Basically the kinetic energy of your hand moving was enough to dislodge the electrons of one material onto another material, causing a difference in electric potential. Once the difference was great enough, the voltage pushed the electrons to the lower energy state. The travel of electrons ionized the air, causing the emission of electromagnetic radiation – ‘sparks’.”

Huh? You DON’T still keep in touch with your science teacher from high school? Weird.

PS. If sparks fly in our bedroom, I’m changing the sheets.
PSS. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, I Felt Sparks

Future Husband, Don’t Trust The Google

Dear Future Husband,
I have a theory: In today’s digital world, I truly believe that you can find ANYONE online if you have a first name and two pieces of personal information. It doesn’t matter what the information is, as long you have two unique bits.

For example, my friends met an eligible bachelor who they thought just might be you. Unfortunately, they only knew his first name, his current city of residence and the field in which he was employed.

Within MINUTES I was able to determine his last name, the correct spelling of his first name, the company for which he works, the address of said company, the college and graduate school he attended as well as the past three cities in which he lived. Oh yeah, AND a picture (or two). Jack. Pot.

DISCLAIMER: I am NOT a stalker. I’m just very curious. I promise.

Anyway, as demonstrated above, this knowledge comes in very handy when trying to date these days. It can also be very annoying when you (meaning me) try very hard to avoid disclosing too much personal information BEFORE the first date.

Therefore, assuming that everyone has my mad investigating skills, I asked my friend to Google my first name as well as two pieces of information that I had provided on my online dating profile. Just to see. The info was pretty generic and ambiguous (on purpose), so I felt rather confident that I would remain undiscovered.

So, my friend went about her Google search and giggled – no – BELLOWED with laughter when the results populated.
I. KID. YOU. NOT. THIS is what the Google produced:

Born and raised in the woods, by a pack of wolves, Ima never quite ‘fit in.’ She always wondered ‘who am I, really?’ After years on the road making a living as a…

I swear. SHEESH. Sigh. I give up.

On the bright side, at least it’s a conversation starter?? Maybe?

PS. If you’ve Googled me and said NOT GONNA HAPPEN, give me a second chance…I’ve come a long way since the woods.

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Don’t Trust The Google

Future Husband, It’s Our Year

Dear Future Husband,
Unbeknown to you, you are often the topic of conversation in my life…shocker. I don’t MEAN to talk about you, it just kind of happens…especially with my girlfriends. And my mother. And my mother’s girlfriends. And my girlfriends’ mothers. You get the picture. Everyone wants to know who are you. And more importantly, WHERE YOU ARE.

Anyway, my very encouraging friend and I were conversing at Chick-fil-A over lunch the other day.

Side note: I have a slight obsession with the Chick. The lady at the drive thru window, miiiight know my name. And miiiight know that I ALWAYS order a large unsweet iced tea with a splash of sweet. And miiiight see me regularly enough to notice – and comment – every single time I trim my hair.
Double side note: If the lady at the Chick drive thru window knows how I drink my iced tea and notices when I change my hair, you better also…I DO plan to see you more regularly than I see her…at least I hope…

Anyway AGAIN, my very encouraging friend and I were conversing at Chick-fil-A over lunch the other day.

We first talked about her ACTUAL husband and then starting talking about you. It was a nice conversation. I surprisingly felt encouraged, and the convo did not end in me becoming a nun this time. Phew.

As we were walking out, she looked at me and said, “Ima, I have a feeling that 2017 is going to be YOUR year. I think he’s coming soon.”

To which I replied, “Haha, yes. I hope so. But then again, that’s what everyone said to me LAST year.”

WITHOUT HESITATION or SKIPPING A BEAT, my very encouraging friend very confidently and emphatically responded with:

“Nah. I didn’t feel that way for you last year.”

BIG. TIME. PAUSE.

I needed clarification.

So, I looked at my very encouraging friend and asked, “You mean to tell me that every single time you’ve audibly encouraged me in the past 12 months by saying ‘Your time is coming soon,’ you immediately followed up said encouragement with the silent thought, ‘But it sure as heck ain’t happening THIS year!’ ?!?!?!?”

To which she replied, “I’m going to read about this in your blog, huh?”

Yep.

PS. There is still a couple of days left in 2016. By all means, feel free to prove her wrong.
PSS. I still love my very encouraging friend…you will too.

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, It’s Our Year

Future Husband, I Have A New Ritual

Dear Future Husband,
I know that we will have plenty of time to make this decision together, but I want you to know that my mind is made up: we will not be taking a cruise for our honeymoon.

Don’t get me wrong, cruises are absolutely wonderful. My livelihood currently depends on that fact. But, seeing as I am employed by a cruise line, I would prefer to do something else…I sail enough as it is.

Now, being a somewhat frequent cruiser, I have developed a few ship rituals:
1. Remove extra hangers from closet on the first night to avoid unnecessary noises (hangers tend to move with the movement of the ship, and you know how I feel about unnecessary noises).
2. Eat AT LEAST one soft serve ice cream cone each day.
3. Always enjoy/be aware of the view from one’s stateroom porthole or verandah.

During a recent sailing, I had a stateroom with a porthole. One morning, while the ship was docked at port, I completed ritual number three before getting ready: I looked out the window to assess the scene outside. On this particular morning, I had a beautiful view of the ocean – no boats, ships, barges or souls in sight. PERFECT.

So, naturally, I flung the curtains open and began getting ready. Since I had pre-established that there was no one outside with a direct line of sight into my room, I did not find it necessary to fully clothe myself whilst drying my hair.

BIG. MISTAKE.

Apparently, the crew had decided that this morning was THE PERFECT morning to, you guessed it, WASH THE WINDOWS. And they forgot to tell me.

So, here I am, singing my heart out, drying my hair, and I’ll be honest – probably doing some type of interpretive dance – when I hear this odd screeching sound. I turned JUST IN TIME to see a yellow jumpsuit wearing gentleman on a scaffold very slowly slide by my window.

NEVER have I hit the ground faster in my life. I then proceeded to wrap myself in the curtains for what felt like an hour while my heart beat returned to normal. AWK-WARD. Needless to say, I was understandably VERY reluctant to make eye contact with anyone donning yellow for the rest of the day.

And now, I have added a fourth ritual: regardless of scene outside, wear clothing and limit interpretive dancing if stateroom curtains are open.

PS. Wherever we honeymoon, we WILL be asking for the window-washing schedule.

xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, I Have A New Ritual

Future Husband, Let’s Have Fun

Dear Future Husband,
Inevitably, on every first date, I am asked the following question:

“So, what do you do for fun??”

As soon as the words are uttered, I IMMEDIATELY panic as I simultaneously internalize my entire existence, which usually ends in me feeling like the most BORING PERSON EVER. I mean, I think I’m loads of fun, but OMG THE PRESSURE!

But, when presented with such a personality-defining question, one cannot remain silent.

So, I simply respond, “I write.”

Which usually leads to, “About what?”

YIKES. YIKES. YIKES.

“Well, you see, I write these letters about my dating life to my currently non-existent Future Husband, whom you just MIGHT be, but I have no idea as this is only our first encounter, and then I post them for the world to read since I obviously cannot share them with him at the moment. So, if you’re NOT my Future Husband, would you at least do something interesting/entertaining so that I have fodder for my next post??”

“Huh?”

And maybe that’s why I’m still single.

PS. I’m not dumb…I would never tell you about my blog on the first date: I’d let you find it on Facebook instead.
PSS. On the off chance that you would actually appreciate the above, you TRULY are my Future Husband.

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Let’s Have Fun

Future Husband, Don’t Be Late

Dear Future Husband,
You were almost too late. I think I almost got hitched.

Let me explain.

I travel A LOT. Traveling is one of my passions, and I do it as frequently as I possibly can. (It would be wise to apply for a passport now, you’re going to need it once we meet.)

On one of my last trips, I found myself in the Caribbean. Side note: people are very friendly in the Caribbean – and talking about one’s love life with a complete stranger is apparently 100% completely acceptable.

My trip was coming to an end, and a very nice gentleman offered to give me a ride to the airport (don’t worry, while he was a stranger to me personally, he was also an established business acquaintance…I don’t get in the car with COMPLETE strangers…unless it’s Uber). Riding in silence during our commute was NOT an option, and he made very good use of the time by asking me a million questions about myself. Now, I’m not super outgoing at first, but I appreciated his friendliness, so I engaged in the conversation. But then, he went for the jugular and asked, “Are you married?”

To which I replied “Uhm, No.”

I thought he was going to STRAIGHT UP stop the car.

“WHAT?! You’re not married? WHY EVER NOT? You just don’t want to be? Turned all the guys down? How old are you?”

Oy vei.

I kept my cool, decided to take his astonishment as a compliment and politely explained that I just hadn’t found the right one at the right time.

At that moment, this stranger of a gentleman realized that he, in fact, KNEW the right one – his cousin Stuart – and decided to give him a call. Right then. Right there. Timing is everything…

I sat in bewilderment as this man called Cousin Stuart and proceeded to tell him that he was sitting in a car with a pretty single girl, and he thought that the two of us would be a GREAT match. The only problem was that he was taking this gal to the airport, so Stuart would probably have to make a trip to the United States for the first date.

Funny, right? I thought so too…until he HANDED ME THE PHONE. WHAT?!?!?!

So, I talked to Cousin Stuart. I thought he was going to apologize for his cousin’s forwardness and the unavoidable awkwardness that was this situation, but no. Cousin Stuart apparently COMPLETELY trusts his cousin because he was 100% onboard with this set up. He expressed his disappointment that I was leaving that day and invited me back to the islands so that he could personally show me around. Finally, he asked if could take me out the next time he was in the United States.

I told him “Sure…just look up Ima (last name omitted) on Facebook and you should be able to find me.”

Apparently that worked for him, and I was able to END the conversation.

In that moment, I was IMMENSELY grateful that I had failed to mention to my friendly chauffeur that my flight wasn’t leaving for another seven hours…as I’m pretty sure that would have given the eager duo ample time to arrange the wedding before takeoff.

PS. I’m avoiding the Caribbean until we meet…don’t want to take any chances.
PSS. I have to travel to the Caribbean for work, so please come soon…

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Don’t Be Late

Future Husband, Time To Reveal

Dear Future Husband,
If your social media accounts are anything like mine, they are probably flooded with posts, pictures and videos from the new-ish party phenomenon thrown by millennial preggos* and their hubbies – the gender reveal.

*Yes, I just referred to pregnant ladies as “preggos.” I, personally, don’t think it’s offensive, but this IS 2016 (and I’ve never been pregnant…) So, I’ll apologize in advance. I’m sorry. HOWEVER, I’m actually considering posting “my eggo’s been preggo-ed” to announce that we’re expecting one day. You’re allowed to veto (but you have to agree it’s stinkin’ clever).

Anyway, after watching a MILLION and ONE videos of couples biting into cupcakes, slicing cakes, releasing balloons, popping balloons, punting footballs, hitting baseballs, shooting targets or whatever creative method they choose, I began to realize…the reaction is ALWAYS the same. It usually involves cheering – nay screaming – a lot of jumping and oftentimes tears.

And I have the following questions:

1. Why is everyone SO surprised? I mean, there is a 100% chance that the result is either boy or girl. I’d agree that the screaming would be warranted if the announcement was that newly revealed baby girl would exit the womb holding a billion dollars…but…

2. Should a pregnant lady REALLY be jumping like that?

3. How is it that I’ve watched a million of these videos and not been invited to a single one?

But, alas, I continue to watch them…while secretly waiting for reveal that breaks the mold:

Couple bites into cupcake to reveal blue icing. Husband looks at wife and says, “Well dang. Try again in 9 months?”
or
Balloon pops to reveal yellow confetti with a note: “Your baby will inform you of its chosen gender in roughly 15 years. SURPRISE!”

Also, I’d like to point out that I’m pretty sure gender reveal parties back in the day were simply called “giving birth.” But whatever. I’m all for one more reason to celebrate and eat cake.

PS. If this is still a “thing” by the time we have kids, we’re totally doing it.
PSS. Remind me of this post when I INEVITABLY scream and cry…I probably won’t jump.

Xoxo,
Ima Waitin

Future Husband, Time To Reveal