This is a love letter I posted yesterday. Please commend me on my mastery of the form.
When I first laid my eyes upon you, on that fateful winter night in Burger King, I felt that I could not avert my gaze even if I tried. For out of all the women in the room at that particular time, you were the most beautiful of all. (Also, it beat looking at any of the grease-drenched whales obscuring every other angle of my vision.)
Although I was only onto my third Whopper, I found my attention drawn away from it for the first time in my life when you strolled through the door with all the grace of a limousine. Your long, bottle blonde hair flowed from your head like wheat in a breeze as you rolled up to the counter and placed your order in a voice as sweet as a blueberry. I prayed that you would sit beside me – and as if unseen spirits had guided you, you sat only one table over. My heart hopped with joy. At this distance, I could see your face in all its detail: skin as smooth as nylon and eyes that sparkled like rhinestones. I watched intently (and hungrily) as you unwrapped your burger, and as you opened your mouth to take a bite, I caught a glimpse of your teeth. They were as white as eggshells. And in contrast to the gluttonous trolls who shoveled their food into their mouths without any regards to dignity, you managed to shovel eloquently.
I can’t believe how lucky I was to have found you. You’re a one in a thousand discovery. (Given the number of women I have ever seen, that’s especially notable). If I traveled to every corner of the Earth, searching far and wide for the perfect woman, there would only be three or four million that would be greater or equal to you in beauty and probable low standards.
Over these past few months, my passion for you only increased. Perhaps you cast a spell on me that first night. Or maybe it was due to my dwindling alternatives. Whatever it was, I am now convinced that I truly love you – that is, the expected net benefits of continued search are negative.
Now, if you’re looking for someone who can shower you with gifts, I’m not your man. But I can offer you something that money can’t buy: the credibility that comes with the fact that I can’t afford to look for anyone better. If you accept me into your life, you can do so with the confidence that I’m unlikely to leave you. It would only occur in the event that I stumbled upon an even more desirable, yet still attainable female. I believe honesty is a virtue: I concede that I would desert you in an instant if that happened. Though rest assured, hope is not lost. All you will need to do to optimize our chances of a happy life together is make it expensive for me to leave.
I hope we get married and have children someday.