Letters To My Younger Self

Letter To My 21 Year Old Self

Dear 21 year old Me,

You didn’t need to write Beautiful Maxim that email. But you already know that.  You didn’t need to write any of those emails to anyone probably ever, but I’m going to focus my wisdom on the one email to Beautiful Maxim.  Now I know you met him during a very exciting time in your life. You got your first paid acting job doing a McDonald’s commercial and that is so cool! Congrats!  You were the love interest to this Parisian actor named Beautiful Maxim and you were shooting it in Niagara Falls (the nation’s marriage CAPITAL, NBD).

You may or may not have made out with him. You may or may not have tried to communicate with him exclusively in remedial French. Haas, I know you think you’re bilingual because you took French classes until you graduated high  school, but you can’t carry on a damn conversation. It’s embarrassing. Be okay with only really knowing English,  take a French class or cut it out!

You may or may not have given him your father’s copy of the book “THE PROPHET” in which you inscribed something to the effect of “Bonjour,” and ended it with “Bisoux.” And I know you told Beautiful Maxim that if he read that book, he could learn English and think of you. Well, maybe don’t give him that book because later on you might want to read it again, because it is a pretty inspirational book and you won’t have it anymore and you will feel guilty for giving it away. Especially because you gave away your father’s copy!

But most importantly, and listen to me here, DON’T WRITE MAXIM THAT EMAIL.  You will write that email over and over and over again. Over a period of several weeks and millions of drafts in your drafts folder.   You will copy and paste the shit out of it. And you will tweak little things to make it sound cuter. And then change it again to make it sound bolder. And then copy and paste and change it so you sound like the funny, brash, independent woman that you think you are.  STOP WRITING THE EMAIL HAAS, STOP IT NOW.

Let me give it to you straight.  If you feel confident about your final email draft, you shouldn’t.  Feel bad and don’t press send.

Let me repeat: DO NOT SEND.  Because when you do you’re going to freak out. You’re going to lose your damn marbles because you’ll check your sent folder directly after hitting send and you’ll see something no man or woman should ever see. Ever. In their life. Never-ever. If you go ahead and decide to send Beautiful Maxim that wonderfully composed, casual yet flirtatious four sentence email you will live to regret it.

You will check your sent folder and you will see that your message to Beautiful Maxim was indeed sent and you will want to re-read that email. And you will find out that YOU. SENT. EVERY. SINGLE. DRAFT. THAT. YOU. EVER. WROTE. TO. HIM. YOU SENT EVERY SINGLE DRAFT. ALL OF THEM! Copied and pasted, stacked one on on top of each other like a series of sky high bunk beds to hell. But instead of sending it to hell, you sent them directly to Beautiful Maxim.

“How did that happen?” you will ask yourself over and over again for the next few weeks….it will subside over the years… but not entirely.  And the answer is “I don’t know.” That will never change. And you will never hear from Beautiful Maxim.  And guess what?  It’ll feel terrible. You won’t want to wake up one morning because the humiliation runs so deep, but don’t worry, you will wake up the next day, and every day after that!  You’ll have this feeling of

embarrasement combined with utter horror and that feeling will come and go over the years. Because you’ll do a bunch of stuff that will continue to make you feel that way and that’s okay because that makes you….you.    So chill out Ingy. Don’t press send, let Beautiful Maxim go back to Paris with his copy of THE PROPHET that you bought specifically for him and everything will be okay.

Aren’t you happy we had this talk?


Your Future Self


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