Dear Planet Sentimentality: An Open Letter to Everyone I Will Ever Know
Let me start with: I come in peace.
I’m a big believer that it’s best to keep mixed company; it holds our eyes open and perspectives pliable. It makes us question ourselves, even if that questioning never makes it into the public sphere. It moderates our judgement.
That said, as I creep closer to thirty, I’m realizing how important candor is–both for relationship health and for one’s personal wellness (it is psychologically exhausting to act as if one is open, especially without pay). And bad for one’s health.
In the spirit of transparency and at the risk of alienating (pun intended) some of you, I’m here with an admission. I do not understand you sentimental types. And while I’m not here to pass judgement, I do want to set some realistic boundaries so we can enjoy a harmonious partnership.
1. I may not be able to help myself from performing a theatre-worthy eye roll when you use terms like “bundle of joy,” “lovebirds,” “hubs,” “bubs,” or any sort of endearing abbreviation for a member of your family. Hopefully I’ll have enough tact to wait until you’re digging in your purse for your matching mother/daughter hair bows before my baby blues loll deep into their sockets, but I can’t promise anything.