Pass this to the front

Dear Forehead,

I want you. On the first day of class I noticed you: your distinguished brow, your brown leather shoes and briefcase, your button-up shirt and well-fitting jeans, and most notably your stereotypically cute face. I don't often hear your voice but when I do I imagine what it would sound like asking me how I like my eggs. I like them scrambled. I can picture us sitting all day in a coffee shop (probably Starbucks), pretentiously dressed and having pretentious conversations about loving Le Corbusier and hating Bentham. I would adjust your tie, like a loving 1950s housewife, and you would give me that sly smile and kiss my cheek.

I like that you appear to be somewhat of a loner, or rather an individualist, as you don't fraternize with the other men in the class. We could be that couple that goes to parties or the mall and privately criticizes everyone less stellar than us. We would exchange knowing glances and sarcastic snickers and when we walk around people will think "My, that's a stylish couple..." and will wish they were us.

Thanks for holding the door open for me. The dress I wore today was for you, so I hope you liked it. And I hope one day we can become the ultimate elitist couple. Our sex life, combined intellect and attractiveness will put Brad and Angelina to shame. But we won't have as many kids. That's ridiculous.

Yours for the taking,
Nicole

P.S. I have a sneaking suspicion you would look sexy with some hobo-scruff.