Dear My Future Husband - #1

I just watched the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special, and if you were here you would have seen me kicking my legs, flapping my arms, screeching like some trapped banshee, gasping and squeaking and watching most of the second half with my hands alternately clapping in inarticulate glee and clapped over my mouth so hard I think I left marks on my own face.

You'll have to be able to cope with reactions like this.

You see, when I'm a fan of something, I'm a fan all the way, and I fall right into that cliche of active emotional involvement. Hopefully, you'll be the sort who will sit next to me and scream and kick and cheer and cry with me; this means we're on the same wavelength with the shared things we love. I try not to get so involved, because caring that much means there's a lot of disappointment, but it also means there's days like this--days when everything goes right and the Story makes sense and surprises me and I could just kiss the world.