Dear Person Who Might Love Me:

I know I don’t know you, and this letter might come off as a little creepy and preemptive, sort of like that line in “Call Me Maybe” —

Well, I don’t miss you because I haven’t met you yet. At least I don’t think I have. But there are a few things I want to tell you so you’re not totally caught off guard or scared away:

I’m a weirdo. Like not in a quirky, manic pixie dream girl kind of way, but more in a borderline unhinged kind of way. Strange things tickle me to no end, and sometimes I carry out entire dramatic conversations with imaginary people. When I was younger, I would put on a robe and leave it just slightly open down the center, imagining I was J. Lo in a music video.

I also genuinely believe I would be a really commercially viable rapper if only I took the time to learn the art form.

I don’t always know how to hold myself in social situations. During a discussion with my improv team and coach, I said something was maybe personal, then assured them it wasn’t my vagina. I have verbal diarrhea any time there’s an awkward silence.

I also like to make lots of jokes about literal diarrhea.

Sometimes I might say the wrong thing, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m taking you seriously. I might accidentally redirect the conversation to myself, or misread the room and tell a bad joke. I would never intentionally say something specifically to upset you, but if I do, I’ll bend over backwards to make it up to you.

I want you to tell me I’m right, or that I totally made up this paranoid thought I’m having. Or that I’m pretty, smart, talented — whatever it is. Even though I’ll ask you a million times about something, please don’t lie to me. Err on the side of compassion, but be real with me. Your validation won’t mean shit if you’re just blowing smoke up my ass.

Encourage me to find it in myself.

I am pretty stubborn about my beliefs. I will assume you agree with me and will speak of my own opinion as if it’s gospel. But if you disagree with me, I will listen to you with an open mind and try to understand. I may not end up in agreement or in full comprehension, but I will try to see your side.

I will hear you out.

I might be difficult to get close to. Sometimes I push people away with my insecurities and fears, or use self-deprecating humor as a defense mechanism. Even if I try to keep you at arm’s length, stick around a little longer. Test the waters.

I probably don’t even realize I’m doing it.

I am really looking forward to loving someone, and to being loved.

I want to find someone I can depend on, and who can depend on me. But I don’t need to be taken care of, and I hope you don’t either. I’ve spent a long time on my own, and I am a self-sufficient human being. But I would still like to be loved, and sometimes — when the occasion calls for it — doted on or pampered.

Also, if you could warm my butter like the guy in “Obvious Child” does for Jenny Slate, I would die a million happy deaths and resurrect from each one still smiling.

Contrary to all my self-deprecation and negativity, I love to find the beauty in things. It can be difficult for me to pick up on social cues, but I love to talk and laugh for hours and hours. I might not do everything right, but I’ll sure as hell try my hardest not to fuck things up. Though getting to know me might be tough, I’m painfully open and honest once you get there.

I’m a pretty okay person, and if you’re a pretty okay person too, maybe we could get together.

I think I’d like that.

Sincerely,
Sarah

Sans Merci

The home of the best minds of any generation. We deliver the raw, the unwritten, the epitome of human expression. We provide wake-up calls and music to fall asleep to. We don’t hold back, and we don’t say please. We operate sans merci.

Sarah duRivage-Jacobs

Written by

Content creator/copywriter/comedienne with a fondness for mugs.

Sans Merci

The home of the best minds of any generation. We deliver the raw, the unwritten, the epitome of human expression. We provide wake-up calls and music to fall asleep to. We don’t hold back, and we don’t say please. We operate sans merci.