Dear Miss Frank:
I am a big admirer of yours. I also am a shy admirer of yours, so I’m not going to tell you who this is. (DON’T bother trying to figure it out, I’m sure you won’t be able to tell.) I can’t stop thinking about one time that you talked to me, when you said those fateful words that trapped my heart forever; you said, “Um, I think you have a big glob of mustard right here,” and then you pointed to your left dimple.
Of course, I had already known that you were a person who cared about others, but now I realized that you cared about me. I was so ecstatic that I dropped my bottle of sparkling grape water all over myself, and then I ran away embarrassed. I had a FEAR that you would dismiss me out of hand, but you didn’t think less of me. I know this because when I came back, you smiled at me. You were with a group of people, and when you saw me, I saw you giggle and point at me, and I wasn’t alone in realizing this BECAUSE I saw everyone else turn and start to smile when they also recognized that you were giving me that special consideration.
My heart leaped again when you came over to me again later, and again you pointed out my mustard spot. I don’t think you figured it out, but I had left it there on purpose, knowing that you would come over again, and bring sunshine and happiness to me again when you came to point it out, again. You suprised even me though, when once you came over, you then proceeded to pull a bottle of mustard out OF your pocket. You doused me in MUSTARD, and I felt estacy. I could tell you felt the same, as you laughed, almost maniacally, while you emptied the entire bottle on me. And I had never felt so special to have been part of an event that utilized so much of a single vinegar-based condiment. I haven’t spoken to you since that glorious day, but you’re in my mind and in my heart. I can’t resisit hamburgers now, because of the mustard. I smell the mustard, and I become enraptured with the thought of you all over again — the thought of you, and the thought of us TOGETHER.
My joy, when I think of you, is inexpressible. This letter, eloquent as it is, cannot possibly convey how my entire being is lifted up when I think of you. When I even see your name, “Annette,” it makes my heart pause a beat. Even variations of your name, like “Anette” or “Annettle” or “Mike”, make me catch my breath, and then my heart aches because you’re away from me. But I vow that it shall not be so forever, because I know that you feel the same for me. OUR bosoms beg for each other. We belong together, like SLI video cards, like Dihydrogen and Oxide, yes, even like holes and swiss cheese. It will not be TOMORROW, but do not despair. Someday soon, I will get to call you my Bubbly-Bunchkin, and I know that you yearn for that day as do I.
Soon, my Frank, soon,
++The Beating Heart who LIVES For You