January 13, 2011

Dear Romeo,

I’m 41 and you’re still out there. Others have impersonated you, but could never keep up the charade for very long.

I tried to heal them, save them, forgive them, overlook their faults and love them in the hopes they were you buried down deep inside. No such luck.

I’m going out on a date on Sunday. Still holding out hope that maybe you might show up.

If it’s you, maybe give me a sign. After a long string of fake-Romeos what I’m most concerned about is that I wouldn’t recognize you for the life of me if I had you sitting right there across the table.

Maybe hold up something big that reads: “Hey Juliet. It’s me. Romeo. Whaddy’a say?”


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