A Different Kind of Dear John

Dear Mr. Right,

Ok, the kid gloves are off. No more Ms. Congeniality. I'm 36 years old and, might I add, not getting any younger. When in hell are you planning to show yourself?

What is taking you so long? Too macho to ask for directions? Can't find the big pulsating arrow that is pointing straight at me? I mean, what are you waiting for? The Apocalypse? Well don't hold your breath on that one, I told them not to set one hoof on this earth until I'm good and hitched to you.

Seriously, when are you getting off your ass to come find me? Surely you don't expect ME to come find YOU, right? I mean, hello! I celebrate the concept of equal rights and all that but I don't want to miss out on the getting swept off my feet part of the deal.

So quit your lolly gagging and start looking for me. Now.

Because, all I know is, eventhough I haven't met you yet, I already miss you.