I'll admit it -- I'm in love with Barack. No, it's not puppy love -- not anymore. You could say we're going steady. I know he doesn't appreciate me spilling the beans like this -- he wants to wait for our trip to Denver to make it official -- but I just can't go on denying. We're an item, and yes, we're ready to take the next step. If I'm reading the signals right, he's going to propose this fall, and I'm sure the big day will be early next year. (If I say yes, that is, LOL.)
Do you remember when we met, Barack? That night in Des Moines? I thought I was too disillusioned, too bitter to get involved with someone again. I thought the day would never come. And you were right, Barack, I was angry, I was divided. And to be honest, when you told me that in years to come I would look back on that moment as the time I remembered what it means to hope again, I thought you were being just a little creepy.
But when, just after our one month anniversary, you went on this whole diatribe about how what I felt then was a whisper that swelled to a chorus that can't be ignored, I realized that that's just how you talk, you hopeless romantic you. But you were right, Barack, again you were. I cannot ignore it any longer.
I knew about the other woman from the beginning, Barack. Everyone knew. Wherever you went, there she was. People were saying how the two of you would make such a great couple, and I thought I was going insane. You said it was just a matter of time, that if I would just wait she would eventually realize that it wasn't going to work. I believed you, Barack. I stuck with you, because you're unlike anyone I've ever met: You know how to talk and listen, you're caring, ambitious and strong. Everyone looks up to you, and if I'm honest, it doesn't hurt that you make quite a bit of money.
But I do worry. How do I know you won't end up being just like the others?
You know about my ex, right? I had my doubts about him from the beginning. Truth be told, there was another guy I had stronger feelings for. But he was just so adamant, and after an extended holiday in Florida I decided to give it a go. It turned out to be the worst decision of my life. Before I knew it, he started listening in on my phone conversations, leaving guns around the house -- his best friend shot someone in the face, Barack. When he started picking fights for no good reason, I realized I had made the wrong choice, but I felt I was stuck with him somehow. Only now am I starting to get over him.
So how do I know that you're not like him, Barack? How do I know you can provide a safe environment for our kids to grow up in? And why am I not invited when you go out for dinner with your corporate friends?
I want us to work, Barack, I really do. And if I sound demanding, that's because I am. I've been hurt too many times not to be. You said that if we're going to work on our future together, that sometimes compromise is necessary. Just don't compromise my feelings for you, Barack. Don't break my heart.