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It aint easy being single on St Hallmark’s Day and somehow, over the years, I’ve nearly always been exactly that. So I’m going to be different and write a love letter to myself.

Dear Joy-Mari

I love that you are not afraid or ashamed to love, no matter whether it is reciprocated. It takes you months, sometimes years, to say those three words but that is not what really matters. What matters is that you love.

Your laugh is absolutely crazy and I adore you for that. Rock on, sista. Don’t ever tone it down for anyone, no matter who they are. So what if it gets you evil looks from across the room at places such as The One & Only? Who cares?

What really  amazes me is the way you can handle a compliment. That’s rare. Few people accept a compliment with as much grace as you. Thank you for giving people, even hot guys who compliment you, the benefit of the doubt

I feel safe with you. I know that you only want the very best for us. Not to mention your obsession with finding ways of improving our relationship — silent retreats, weekly check-in sessions, stealth hugs. Thanks for that.

And finally, you’ve grown so much as a person since I came to know you. It’s been fun to watch you progress from that silly 23-year-old (no offense, 23-year-old Joy-Mari) to the 28-year-old of today. Here’s to another 100 years together. OK, fine, another 90 years together should do the trick.

Much love,

Ekke