Dear Mr. X

I will never send this letter to you, but I have some things to say. I know you think all I talk about is sex. I know you think all I care about is fucking you out of curiosity. Some of that is true. But, I really do like you. Your personality is odd, but traditional at the same time. You have the ideas that are pasted on top of our true selves by society, but some how you still come up with your own unique take on things. You are a tad obsessed with big fake boobs, but can see the immorality of some of the basic American institutions. You can share intimate details of your childhood or pain over a relationship, but can’t grasp the toxic relationships in your own house. Insecurity is your middle name. But you have an intuitiveness that is unrivaled. I appreciate all of that in you. You fascinate me, dear. You can be so sweet and SO rude. I can relate to some much of you. I see myself in you. You see, dearheart, I’m an odd one too. I never fit in, anywhere. I’m a black girl who loves sci-fi, Black power, Kanye West, Incubus & Jonny Lang. Been raised in two cultural and can relate to both and sometimes can’t stand either. Can’t spell a lick, but some say I’m brilliant. Raised by a “black Muslim” that is now a self-proclaimed Republican (although, I am highly doubtful of that political affiliation, but I digress). I come from a family of rebels. I’m just as insecure as you about some things and hide it just as badly as you do. You are sweet and silly. Goofy and kind. Mean and mellow. I like it all. Would it be weird between us? Definitely. Would it be interesting between us? Certainly. Are we exactly what the other was looking for or expected? Hardly. I don’t know, but life seems to short to wait for the expected thing to happen, don’t you think?