Dear Universe, Don’t Fuck This One Up

A polite request from a woman who has already survived enough romantic character development.

Dear Universe,

First off, I stole this idea from a Facebook post, so let’s not give me too much credit for creativity here. I am simply borrowing someone else’s emotional concept and making it significantly more dramatic. As is tradition.

Anyway, we need to talk.

I know I complain about you a lot. In my defense, you have made some deeply questionable choices when it comes to my life. Especially my love life. Every time I have liked someone, loved someone, or thought, “Maybe this could actually be something,” you have apparently taken that as a personal challenge.

So I am asking you now, very nicely, to not fuck this one up.

Because I really like Craig.

Fine. I love Craig.

Yes, he annoys me before the sun is even fully awake. He calls me at five in the morning with entirely too much enthusiasm, sends me memes while I am trying to work, takes skincare more seriously than most people take retirement planning, and somehow manages to make me want to hug him and mute him at the exact same time.

But I love him.

Out of every relationship I have ever been in, including my 13 year marriage, Craig is the only person I have ever felt completely myself around. And look, I know I am a lot. I am painfully self-aware of that fact. I am dramatic. I spiral over things that probably deserve five minutes of concern and somehow turn them into a full emotional miniseries. I constantly convince myself something is wrong, fixate on details no reasonable person would even notice, and somehow manage to be clingy while also wanting everyone to leave me alone in the exact same breath. I love deeply, fall too hard, and feel everything at a volume most people would probably prefer turned down.

But with Craig, I do not have to turn any of it down.

I tell him everything. I call him about the stupid little things most people would probably keep to themselves, because with him I never feel like I have to edit myself into someone quieter, easier, or more convenient to love. I do not have to pretend I am less dramatic, less anxious, less attached, or less me. He does not try to change those parts of me, and I do not try to change anything about him. We simply let each other exist exactly as we are, emotional chaos, irritating habits, five in the morning phone calls and all.

And maybe that is what makes this relationship feel so different. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to be fully seen without immediately feeling like I need to apologize for what someone sees.

And yes, our relationship is complicated. It is unconventional. It takes approximately seventeen minutes, three diagrams, and a brief intermission to explain it to the average person. But honestly, Universe, have you met me? I am complicated. My life is complicated. A simple little relationship with matching towels and a shared Costco membership was never going to be my storyline.

This makes sense for me.

More importantly, he makes sense for me.

He makes me laugh. He makes me feel loved. He makes ordinary days more interesting and difficult days easier to survive. He drives me insane, but he also makes me ridiculously happy, which feels like a fair trade most of the time.

So this is my official request.

Can I keep this one?

Not in a tragic, ominous, somebody start playing sad music way. I simply mean: can this relationship be the one that actually works? Can we grow old while continuing to annoy each other? Can he keep calling me too early, and can I keep pretending I hate it? Can we have more concerts, more trips, more ridiculous arguments, more laughter, and more years of whatever strange little life we are building?

I am not asking for perfection. That sounds exhausting, and frankly, neither one of us is qualified.

I am only asking you not to sabotage it.

No unnecessary plot twists. No surprise betrayals. No random emotional wrecking balls. No deciding that I need another painful lesson for “character development.” I have enough character now. Possibly too much.

Just let this one be good.

Let it be weird and complicated and annoying and funny and ours.

For once, Universe, please stop treating my romantic life like a long running television drama that desperately needs ratings.

I love him.

I would really like this one to last.

Sincerely,
Sarah

P.S. I said please, which is honestly more grace than you have earned.