* * *
And sometimes you need to let your LOL know. (That’s Love of Your Life. Which, fine, would technically be LOYL, but LOL is funnier.)
* * *
So, allow me to romance you, epistolary-style. Because romance is a key part of dating my husband—something I always want to do.
* * *
It’s never a challenge, because you will always be the man I love, and you will always be my sexy-as-sin favorite—and now one and only—ex-boyfriend.
* * *
And, lucky me, as your wife and roomie, I get to luxuriate in the proof of that whenever I wish. All I have to do is pull back the sheets one lazy Sunday morning. Or linger at the end of swim class and wait for you to emerge from the pool—those arms, that chest, and that . . . ahem.
* * *
Yes, I linger. Yes, I check you out.
* * *
Can you blame me?
* * *
My hubs is a solid one hundred on the one-to-ten babe-o-meter.
* * *
Every now and then, though, I feel like I don’t see your face as much as I want.
* * *
Fine, we did have fun power-eating Life cereal together the other morning before you rushed to take a client call and I had to jet to go for a run with Mags. And yes, admittedly, we played footsie under the table the other night at Gin Joint with our friends.
* * *
Those things are great.
* * *
But I don’t want to lose the magic that brought us together.
* * *
Between your successful firm and my new gym finding its feet, it can be difficult to sneak away for those little moments together. The things that make us unique. The things that make us us.
* * *
Dating.
* * *
We were masterful daters before we were engaged.
* * *
And I want to keep coming up with fantastic ways to date.
* * *
Like we did the other night—so simple, so in character for us.
* * *
You surprised me by picking me up from the pole-dancing class Roxanne insisted I try, and you took me to that new diner just a hop, kiss, and jump away from Central Park.
* * *
And ohmyword. If grilled cheese could become president, I would vote, vote, vote for that sexy contender.
* * *
It had the perfect level of melt and the right amount of pickle, and it left my taste buds in some kind of comfort food heaven.
* * *
But that wasn’t my favorite part of the evening.
* * *
After the diner, which we unanimously agreed made a good second- choice last meal—because nothing could top Melt My Heart—we indulged in a bit of PDA (I can’t resist kissing you!) while we sipped cocktails at Gin Joint and planned our next vacation. The pictures you painted of gorgeous summer days under the Eiffel Tower, of quaint French bistros with intimate lighting and tables set for two, and of hot summer nights spent twisted between the sheets . . . you had me at bonjour.
* * *
And let me just say—Ooh la la, voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
* * *
Vacation-browsing is the new thrift-shopping. It’s a perfect date-night activity because I want to go everywhere with my favorite person.
* * *
But that wasn’t the best part of the evening either.
* * *
Later, as we walked home, a delish blend of liquor and lust and love fueled my steps. We stopped at the door to our building. You pulled me close, and with the crazy, wild symphony of New York in the background—the cars, the lovers, the sirens, the laughter—you kissed me. That kiss was loaded with the promise of more and the certainty of forever, and that right there.
* * *
And that was the absolute highlight of the date with my husband.
* * *
Well, that, and what happened next when we went up to our apartment. But that’s a tale for our eyes only.
* * *
I loved our latest date, and it reminded me that we will always be us. With our busy lives, all we need is the simplest of things—like a pole, some grilled cheese, and our favorite watering hole—and we reconnect.
* * *
In the meantime, I will leave you with this—what walks like a duck and has feathers like a duck, but talks like something else entirely?
* * *
You’ll find out tomorrow when I pick you up after work for our next date.
* * *
With all my love,
* * *
Your Wife
Dear Hilarious, Sexy, Brilliant, Fantastic Wife of Mine,
* * *
Yes, let’s talk about dating.
* * *
You, my cupcake, are a pro.
* * *
You are a masterful dater.
* * *
But this should come as no surprise. Haven’t you been cooking up brilliant schemes for years?
* * *
You have, and let’s be honest—this bloody fantastic union we’ve got going on is your greatest scheme yet.
