I want to be on you

Dear girl who models different ironic one size too small t-shirts on Myspace each week:

I love you. I know this seems sudden, but I do. I love your gigantic smile, your perfect skin tone, your occasional bare midriff, your aforementioned too small t shirts, and most of all, your love of Anchorman. I know that we could spend hours saying, "Milk was a bad choice" back and forth to one another, and you would never get tired of it like all the other girls do. I know that rather then be wined and dined, you would much prefer to watch episodes of Entourage and drink Bud Light. I know that you don't care that I don't have any money, because our mutual love for obscure movie lines, brick walls, and train tracks will be enough to sustain us through the lean times.


You consider yourself a "nerd". You haven't read the Devil Wears Prada. You don't listen to Maroon 5. Your dog cannot fit in your purse. You dont even own a purse. You liked Rushmore. You order Pabst Blue Ribbon and love watching football. You have never set foot on Gansevoort Street. You have never said, "Ewww, I hate Bob Dylan's voice". You are not from Westchester County. You have never once seen American Idol. You didn't attend Syracuse, Lehigh, Indiana, Maryland, Brandeis, NYU, or Tufts. You do not know what a tartini is. You don't know what gefilte fish is. You know who Donald Rumsfeld is. You do not have a subscription to US Weekly. You have never had an Oscar party. You have never considered working in pharmaceutical sales. You don't know where the Hamptons are. You think Murray Hill is a small Midwestern college in a mid major conference.

Oh, girl who models different ironic one size too small t-shirts on Myspace each week, I know you are the perfect girl. You don't care what I do or where I grew up. You don't care that my last car was a 1993 Nissan Altima. You I are gonna get married on top of a mountain. And there's going to be flutes playing and trombones and flowers and garlands of fresh herbs. And we will dance till the sun rises. And then our children will form a family band. And we will tour the countryside.


Love,
Dave.