L-O-V-Me

You'll be pleased to know I'm eating carbs again. I had a realization this weekend while eating pie a boy baked for me in the nation's capitol and binging on House of Cards.

Somebody had asked me the week before if I could ever have imagined myself where I am in life. I thought, "Yeah. I could have. But why would I have wanted to?" It was a short conversation.

I remembered an assignment from English my senior year of high school in which we had to write a letter to ourselves in 2025. I confidently predicted a post-award show TONYs or Oscars, still in a tuxedo, reading it on the sofa of my Manhattan loft or swanky L.A. hotel room.

But I always thought it would be funny if there had been stipulations to the letter. Rules of mediocrity. For instance: you never got married, your cat just passed away, you have $25,000 left in student loans, and you're leasing a Toyota.

Now write a letter to THAT, snotty 18 year old.

While I thought of this over my second heap of pie during episode 5, I realized we spend our entire lives with the hope of reaching our personal dreams. Then, out of nowhere, we are sideswiped by some terrible thing that compromises our trajectory and forces us to gamble everything we've worked for thus far in the hopes that we could still achieve our goals while pulling the weight of another person who is running in a completely different direction.

Now imagine writing a letter to yourself in 2025, but today, you've been sideswiped by this "love". There can no longer be a straight path to Happily Ever After. Well, not since we gave women the right to vote and started letting gays get married.

Luckily, I've always been a tragic romantic. If I have to make it on my own, I guess I'd rather not make it. I blame my parents for never getting divorced.

I included in my letter that my husband would be reading over my shoulder, and already proud of my undoubted win from the evening, he would kiss me on the forehead for having been so kind to include him in my plans since 2007.

I mean, I had to ensure I was still getting some at 35.

And whether that forehead kiss comes from a boy who bakes apple pies or some future man who is hopefully not leasing a Toyota, I know that as long as I'm dreaming my own dreams, I'll be braced for collision.

Hot? Unintentional, but yes.

He's going to be incredibly lucky,

TJB: Making It