Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • To My Future Spouse -- present, possibly nonexistent, or otherwise:

    Firstly, I hope you don't mind having a library. A big one. In fact, I hope you want a library chock-full of books in any genre under the sun. And I hope you will read some of them.
    I hope you're a fan of the following things: snow, Star Trek (The Next Generation, preferably), and the Green Bay Packers.
    I hope you're okay with killing wasps, because that shit is not gonna fly with me.
    I hope you understand that if you're out of line, it'll come right back. Because that doesn't fly either.
    I hope you will invest your time in our family, whether it's comprised of children, a dog, or both.
    I hope you will sometimes embrace being a kid again, whether it means building a treehouse or camping in the backyard once in a while.
    I hope you will always support my work, whether I win Pulitzers or am only published in terribly obscure literary journals or if I decide to give up writing altogether. I hope you will back me in whatever my path may be.
    I hope that you'll understand that I will always work my hardest at what I do, even if I don't bring in lots of money.
    I hope you know that I will support your work (unless you're a dog-fighter, pimp, drug-dealer, or other sort of rapscallion).
    I hope you have a keen sense of balance -- a go-getter in your career, but able to set it aside at home.
    I hope you don't mind sweatpants, topknots, and baggy grandpa cardigans.
    I hope you will make me tea when I'm sick.
    I hope you don't mind having your own office. Because I need my own.
    On that same note, I hope you don't mind having your own space because sometimes I need that too.
    I hope you don't mind mild road rage, random half-full glasses of water sitting around, dog-eared books, or waiting a long time to take a shower -- because those things are all going to happen. Frequently.
    I hope you'll want to cook with me, dance with me, go on long road trips with me, and maybe even see faraway parts of the world with me (if I'm ever beyond being published in obscure literary journals).

    And finally,
    I hope we will never reach the point of simply being roommates who happen to fall into the same bed when the day is over.
    I hope that we will be more substantial than that. Always.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.