To The Man Who Keeps Leaving me Love Letters with Numbers

 To The Man Who Keeps Leaving Me Love Letters with Numbers 

 

Dear Bob,

Thanks for signing your notes.

We’ve got to stop meeting like this—

You’re a real go-get-her… with suspiciously neat handwriting.

But I’m stuck on the numbers.

I keep trying to call you—

but my phone says, “Nice try. That’s a locker combo.”

Also: the pink Post-its.

So bold. So… 80% highlighter, 20% cry for help.

Is that your personality showing— or just your stationery budget?

Confession: I’m heterosexual.

So if you meant these for the other “Cornelia,”

please use the box on the left by the Men’s Room—first door, first heartbreak.

We’re the Ladies League. We have clipboards.

If not… congratulations. You’ve piqued my interest.

Next note, please include a selfie. Preferably with both eyes open.

One more thing about me:

I prefer a golfer who dances.

Or a hiker who dances. Any man who dances.

You may be a musician—Steven Tyler energy, fewer scarves.

But you must dance. This is non-negotiable. Like cart fees.

See you in the Fall.

Waiting with bated breath (and a nine iron),

Cornelia