Dear Future Hubby,
If we ever break up for an amount of time and then stop talking for years (yes, years), don’t expect me to just be jumping for joy/wanting to make out with you if you reach out to me out of the blue. I will probably be in shock, speechless, confused, and honestly probably a little angry. Please note that none of these emotions are ones that I like to experience on a daily basis, let alone all at the same time. But come Friday evening, there I was, fresh out of the shower and ready to start my night when my see that I have a text message. Thinking it’s from KHiggers telling me she’s run into her crush at a bar or one of my friends here in LA confirming plans for Saturday, I took a look. Oh no. It was neither of the above. It was the Double Threat.

What up, Double Threat?
Yes, you read that right. The Double Threat. Back from the (almost) dead and blowing up my phone on a Friday night. I felt like I was back in college about to get some drunk “I’m at McGee’s and I don’t want to walk home, can you come pick me up?”
I preface the rest of this letter with the fact that I know it sounds angry. I don’t normally like to be an angry person, but this brought up a lot of anger. Please try your best not to make me this angry or pull this shit on me. I type really hard on the keyboard when I’m angry and am afraid I will break it. I don’t have the money to buy a new keyboard, so spare me the $25 bucks or whatever.
Apparently the universe must have heard me mention him last week and thought it would be fun to play a cruel trick of the emotion type on me. Really? He decides to make an appearance right around the time where I’m basically over him, don’t give a shit anymore, and had put my “last attempt to maintain a friendship” letter out there over EIGHT months ago. I honestly didn’t know what to make of the random reach out. While part of me was just a tiny bit excited to hear from him (I’m a romantic at heart, give me a break), it took a lot of will power not to angrily yell at him over text as to why he had so much trouble maintain a friendship over the past three years. I did my best to bury that anger (though that always seems to come to the forefront of my mind when he makes an appearance) and just have a normal conversation with him. I’m too much of a pushover to ignore the text completely.
Double Threat: I saw Eric fucking P. today! (side note: Eric P. was our English professor Freshman year. We met in his class)
Me: Holy shit, are you kidding me?!?! Is his hair still crazy and was he wearing an oversized suit?
Double Threat: Steel coffee mug in hand, same suit, looked at me like three times.
Me: He was probably like “I think I talked with that kid on a bench one time. Oh wait, I always talk to kids on benches.” Where did you see him?
Double Threat: Fullerton and Clark. What the hell is wrong with this guy? Same glasses, too.
Me: He’s stuck in 2001. We all grew up, he’s holding on to the memories of teaching class on the McGraw lawn when the power was out. That’s so crazy that you saw him, though really, it’s kind of hard to miss him.
Double Threat: Brought back so many memories….I miss you. (Really?!?!? You had to go there?!?!)
Me: I miss you too. A lot. We should talk more. Did you hear that John Wooden passed away tonight? I thought of you when I heard. So sad. (Yeah, I’m clearly a pushover)
Double Threat: Too consumed on these blackhawks. Are we facebook friends?
Me: We’ve been facebook friends since my senior year.
Double Threat: Blackhawks? I’m fucking crazy about them.
Me: Yeah, well aware. I kinda figured that out when you went to a game freshman year and I stayed home to write our paper.
Double Threat: I was just talking to my brother about that…Didn’t I get a better grade than you?
Me: Haha, yes and I was very bitter. Luckily I majored in film and not…whatever subject that paper was on. Can we talk some time? Like really talk?
Double Threat: Sure.
Me: You’ll actually answer the phone if I call you?
Double Threat: Well, not tonight.
Me: Ha, well I wasn’t planning on calling you tonight. I meant in general, like if I called later this weekend.
Double Threat: Beers (Typical DT answer, ugh. 100% avoiding the actual question and topic of conversation. Why did I expect anything different?)
Me: Ha well guess that’s my answer. Enjoy your beer and Blackhawks.
Double Threat:
Needless to say, my Friday night was kind of a bust after this. I wanted to sit there and reenact “Really?!?! with Seth & Amy” from SNL because only that’s all I could say. Really?!?!? Really?!?!?! Excuse me while I got walk around speechless for a minute and come back and yell “Really?!?!” I called KHiggers (who was drunk at a bar, so proud of that, btw) to tell her and even her reaction was “Really?!?!” Two days later, I’m still in “Really?!?” mode. I’m not sure if I’m actually going to try and reach out to him. If he doesn’t pick up, nothing has changed. If he does, it’s opening up a whole other can of worms that I had previously buried. I’m not sure if it will be entirely productive if we actually do talk. I’m not sure what exactly I’m looking for out of an actual conversation with him. I already got the “I messed up with us/I screwed up” I had been waiting for years ago.

Whoops, my bad.
It’s been three years. I’ve moved on. I’ve learned to live my life without him. If you had asked me four years ago if I could imagine not having him in my life, I would have said no. Now, I can absolutely say yes. It just becomes harder to say yes, when despite my ability to live on my own, without him, that little part of me would still like him around. Anger aside, I’d like my best friend back, please.
Moral of the (fucked up) story. If we ever break up and you decide to cut me out of your life, actually follow through with it. Don’t come back three years later acting like nothing has happened. Either come back, say your sorry, say you fucked up, and have a ring with you, or just let me live my life in (relative) peace. Clearly, I should have just grown a backbone and ignored the text.
This angry (not towards you, FH) letter has been brought to you by the letter U, G, and H.
Xo,
Your Future Wife