[dear justin silver: please marry me]

So it looks like the whole Mike Rowe thing didn’t work out. But it’s okay. I’m a big girl. After a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and taking the appropriate amount of time out to grieve a non-acceptance of a ridiculous marriage proposal to a pseudo-celebrity, I’m ready to get back in the game. I’ve moved on, Mike. YOU HEAR THAT?! I’VE. MOVED. ON. My new target  obsession interest? Justin Silver of CBS’ “Dogs in the City.”

Dear Justin Silver,

Please marry me. I know you don’t know who the hell I am, but I think know we’re meant for each other. And really, when two people are destined to be together, what does it matter how long they’ve known each other? My parents only knew each other for six months before they tied the knot, and they’ve been married 15 20(ish) 31 years. TRUE LOVE, JUSTIN. And that’s what I know we’ll have. I understand, however, you may need a bit more convincing, so allow me to outline a list of qualities/general statements about our marriage and fate, and I’m sure by the time you’re finished, you’ll be at a ring store picking out finger bling so fast it’ll make a Real Housewife’s head spin. BECAUSE REAL HOUSEWIVES LIKE DIAMOND JEWELRY, JUSTIN. Try to keep up.

1. I have a dog. Her name is Ava, and she is awesome:

I feel this alone makes us kindred spirits, and gives us something in common. And don’t worry; Ava will fit right in. For the most part. She just has this tiny thing where she’s sort of uncomfortable around other dogs. Like when I take her to the dog park, she just stands awkwardly next to me, and then when another dog tries to initiate play, she hides behind my legs. She’s like that kid who won’t pry himself off his mother’s legs on the first day of school. And then it’s just me and her, standing outside in the dog park, in the heat, awkward and uncomfortable. She won’t chase balls. She won’t play tug-of-war with me. Sometimes I think she might be autistic. But if we were to get married and merge our doggie kids, you and your brood could help her get well-adjusted and socialized. Talk about a great father-daughter bonding exercise!

2. I am Catholic. You look like you’re Italian, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching The Godfather and The Real Housewives of New Jersey, it’s that Italian = Catholic. They say that commonality in faith is one of the cornerstones of a solid marriage, so that means we are ahead of the game.

3. I will move to New York. Seriously, I’m so ready to get the H up out of Florida, I’d move to Saskatchewan. I know what I’d be getting myself into because I visited your fair city a few years ago. I saw Wicked, went to the Broadway Comedy Club, rode the carousel in Central Park, and saw an unofficial, look-like-he-might-shank-you-if-you-got-too-close Mickey Mouse in Times Square. And I live in Tampa (which is urban as shit), so I have no problem adopting a “don’t fuck with me” attitude. Which I totally did when the security guard in Hell’s Kitchen started getting mouthy when I asked for directions to a restaurant. 

4. I won’t chew your face off. I realize this is probably a concern of yours since I’m from Florida, but DON’T WORRY. I don’t get high off bath salts, and the last time I touched marijuana was, like, over a year ago, so all traces of drugs, including their zombie-like side effects, are completely out of my system. Promise.

Justin, it is clear that I am a catch. So I urge you to think long and hard about my proposal, and then accept it. An opportunity like this only comes around once in a lifetime. Don’t blow it.

Your Future Wife,

Sarah VB


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