Dear Future Husband,
I’m sick and slowly dying. I’m exaggerating of course but being sick really sucks and this Flu epidemic is no joke! Yea I’m a strong independent black woman and can hold my own blah blah blah. But uh, a sista could use some comfort and support. Just want you to force me to go to the doctor then get mad when you have to pay a $40 copay for them to tell me to take Tylenol. And buy soup so I️ can take the Tylenol but get mad when I️ don’t wanna eat. And rub my back. And watch re-runs of a different world till I️ fall asleep. Then you end up getting sick taking care of me but when I️ feel better I️ take care of you. And then the cycle of sickness might continue but I️ got you boo cuz I’m a ride or die. But after the first go round i’ll just quarantine you in the guest bedroom. Ain’t got time to keep getting sick. 🙅🏾♀️ Moral of the story is, Wish you were here to take care of me. But since you’re not, I’m calling my Dad (Defender of the Night). He got me ’till you get here. Hurry up though cuz he keeps bragging about how you’ll never be as good as him! 🤣 Don’t really know which of us is worse. Me writing letters to you or him comparing his self to a figment of my imagination. That’s support at its finest 🤣 Hope you’re having a Better day than me. In Bali, or Dubai, or Paris or somewhere warm livin I️t up.