Dear Future Hubby
Picture this: You're a 19-year-old kid from Cornfuck Falls, Nebraska or a similar Midwestern town with the population of Phillip Rivers' living room. You just got done working an exhausting overtime shift at Family Video so you can afford to go on vacation to Omaha for a Brooks & Dunn cover band concert next weekend. Aside from the Black Friday Doorbuster Sale at the Sherwin Williams in Scottsbluff, this trip will undoubtedly be the highlight of your year.
After clocking out, you hop in your 1992 GMC Syclone and breathe a gigantic sigh of relief. A delightfully familiar aroma of warm shepherd's pie and segregation fills your nostrils. It's the Cracker Barrel leftovers that have been marinating in your truck for the past 36 hours. You grab one of the 18-month-old moist towelettes from your glovebox and clean off your hands, which are covered in dust from the Gone Fishin' VHS tape that you checked out before leaving work. The "wet wipes" are harder and dryer than the trio of Ruffles that have been under your driver's seat since the Bush administration, but they manage to get the job done.
On your way home, you make a pit stop at the local vending machine to get a RC Cola and unexpectedly run into your cousin Brandon for the first time in almost 10 hours. After a few minutes of catching up, he tells you that he's taking your sister Brittany boating on Glenn Cunningham Reservoir for their anniversary next weekend, the day after the big concert, and asks if you want to join them. You smile wider than the pot hole on Old Sycamore Ridge Road in Hay Springs as you realize that your dream vacation just turned into a wet dream vacation. There's only one thing that's stopping everything in your life from being absolutely perfect at the moment. You don't have a spouse or kids. In fact, you're the oldest bachelor in town by a large margin, and everyone else from your graduating class is either married with multiple kids or at conversion camp. You're desperately and painfully single. And it's not that you're not fuckable. You have the most averagely-spaced-apart eyes in your entire extended family, but yet, you're the only one who hasn't tied the knot or reproduced. This makes you increasingly frustrated. And the worst part is that you don't even have any kids to take your anger out on.
If any of that was familiar or relatable to you, then you'll LOVE these tweets from other hopelessly romantic aspiring spouses.
With relationship requirements as commendable as that, it's hard to believe this hip-talking bachelorette is forced to write letters to fictional hubbies.
Blaring "Boot Scootin' Boogie" at max volume and not being able to hear the annoying screams and cries of your stupid, drowning children >>>>
Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, beats the look on your kids' developmentally abnormal faces as you and your alcoholic spouse drunkenly whip their fragile bodies around on the tube.
Oh, you found a man who willingly whips the kids around on a tube instead of making you do it? That's not a boyfriend, sis. That's a whole ass husband.
Be patient, queen. Your knight in shining armor is coming. And he's going to absolutely destroy your kids.
More like Bae Burley.
Ferociously fantasizing about MANGLING the FUCK out of your children on the tube. Just completely DISFIGURING them.
You heard it from Haeven first: Nothing baets relaxing on a boat in baeutiful waether while your husband wreaks the living shit out of your kids.
With long-term goals and values like that, you have to wonder how Sydney's still single.
Yupppp.
A boy will kind of destroy your kids. But a man will ABSOLUTELY destroy your kids.
BIGGGGG mood.
Mmmhm.
Ummmmm, yes please.
The Venn diagram of girls who use the term "future hubbs" and girls who do poorly in relationships might be a single circle, but I trust that Christina Anthony will eventually find a like-minded soulmate.
One of the most relatable posts on the entire innernet. Who ISN'T looking forward to being a 40-year-old abusive, alcoholic father of multiple shit heads kids?
I'll take an order of this with a side of THIS, please.