To My Future Husband…

This post goes out to Charles E Stetson, the man of my dreams. He doesn’t know it quite yet, but we are very much destined to be with each other. What a beautiful, beautiful human. Every psych class, he sits two tables away from me and my eyes couldn’t feel more blessed than they do looking at his curly hair, glasses, and pullover sweater with the collar of his button down poking out.

He’s the one.

During my first few months of class, our romance seemed nearly impossible. He was like a museum artifact of which I had only admired from afar. That was until fate spoke to me. Almost as if destiny had intended it, I was able to initiate verbal contact with him last week in class when we were given an assignment to write on one of the whiteboard walls, and the world incidentally brought him to the whiteboard right next to mine.

I leaned over to ask him a question I had already known the answer to.

“I’m Luna, by the way.”

He smiles.

“I’m Charles.”

I had finally learned his name, and I couldn’t wait to figure out more about him. He was a religion major who sang in church choir. I’d never been too religious or cared much for choir, but by god did Charles E Stetson make faith sound sexy. He continued to tell me that he was a sophomore, but that was a detail I had already known considering I scanned the entire freshman class for potential suitors during orientation week, and had I scoped him then, I would have avoided two failed college romances and gone straight for his put-together, prince-like male specimen.

However, as much as my heart protests, I must be patient with this one. Like all great romances, this one mustn’t be rushed. I’m going to take our love story one psych class at a time, and maybe today I’ll even ask him for notes.

I’ve rushed in with two boys in my two months here, and so I’ve learned the same lesson enough to know that I need to take things slow. So there you have it; it’ll take some time, but operation Mrs. Eloise Kneadly-Stetson is a-go.

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