I glanced at the clock, a smile playing on my lips; it was almost mail time. In this day and age, everything was electronic. I receive text messages to my phone and a constant stream of emails but the only mail that I usually got was bills or advertisements. Even my own mother will tell me, when I call, that she is busy and to text or email the information instead. So why then, when was I so looking forward to the mail?
Because I was expecting something fabulous in the mail, a letter, written by hand. I get about three every week and I send the same amount of letters back. You see, I am single and have been for about two years. I have tried dating and I have tried online dating but it just seemed so pointless. My inbox was full of messages that were crude or bland and dates never seemed to materialize into a second date.
I had given up until one day; I got a friend request on Facebook. Do you remember your first real love? How everything about them was perfect, even their imperfections? My first love’s name was Eric and we met in college. We clicked in a way that I had never connected with anybody before and we became lovers and best friends. Although we never talked about marriage, there was no doubt in my mind that someday we would be married and because it was such a certainty, it would be pointless to discuss it. I was as certain about our future together as I was that the sun would rise and set every day.
