  Dear Future Husband: Since it undoubtedly took me twenty or fifty years to find you (you know my luck, or at least I hope you do) you will have never known this high school version of myself. This 15 year old desperately wants you to know who I am now, because it's only fair. Why should the 65 year old get all the glory?
You know about Spokane, I have probably casually made comments about how it sucks. But you may not know of how much it sucks. I will be living in New York by now, so I must be constantly giddy over my home life. But there was a time when things weren't so. I was a gangly translucently-pale dorky kid who spent her days daydreaming about a different life. I loved my family, I hated living with them. I loved my education, hated going to school. That's me in the present-tense, honey.
My expectations for you are pretty high. I hope you are hygienic. I'm not a stickler for the whole toilet-seat up thing (you know Joey and Jake) However, if you take a shower and throw your towel on the bathroom floor, I may have made a fatal flaw in my choice of life partner. You're probably either a musician or a good-music aficionado, but if you ever listen to Good Charlotte in my presence I may have an incontrollable gag reflex. You better know what peanut butter I eat (Adams, thank you very much) I'll let you watch every football/baseball/basketball game without interruption, and I expect to have the TV every Saturday Night at 11:30pm and on through to 1am.
If you don't like to hear off-key out-of-pitch show tunes, you may want to reconsider the whole marriage thing. Because I will sing them. Similarly, if you can't stomach Roman Holiday our marital life may run into some issues. (Hint: The next time we get into an argument you can end it-- just tell me I look like Audrey Hepburn.
) I also am usually freezing cold, so you may want to invest in a good tank top-- the thermostat will read 70 during the winter months. Overall, I think this whole marriage thing will go pretty well. I really hope you're John Mayer, but that could change. Maybe you're better, though it's a little hard to imagine right now. Oh yes, and I love you, Snookums. Affectionately... Anna 
