Will the Real Neal Please Email Me Back

For right now, my only somewhat constant link to Neal is email. And even that is not so consistent. For example, they are 7 hours ahead of us...so before I dash off an urgent email with lots of exclamation marks and capital letters, I have to compute the time difference. There is no point in me chaining myself to my laptop, tapping my fingers and waiting ever so impatiently for a reply if it's 3 AM in Iraq. As attentive as he is to me and my needs, he is not going to get that email for another 4 hours or so.

But sometimes you come across a family of 3 walking the bike path behind the neighborhood or you watch "P.S. I Love You" (again) and just need to send an "I love you a google" email. Sometimes you accidentally gulp down a bottle of Georgia peach wine and then deem that the perfect time to send off several erotic emails about his manhood in comparison to the Eiffel Tower and what you would rather do with the honey than put it in your coffee. (note: GA wine did not immediately precede honey in the coffee....that was just me being...well...y'know...)

Here are some of the tamer emails I've sent to Neal in the past 6 months:

"These chocolate chip cookies are warm and gooey....just like your kisses. I miss you."

"Y'know what I need right now? Naked waffles in bed. That always makes everything better."

"It's a good thing there is still velcro on the uniforms because I'm gonna rip it off. With my teeth. What Eiffel Tower??"

"How did you ever get to be so awesome? Lucky, party of 1."

"The only thing that could make this steak taste any better is if I was eating it off of you."

And those are the tame ones.

About a month ago, I got this email:

"Hello. I have been receiving emails from you, but I am not who you think I am. I don't think these emails were intended for me."

And that's what happens when you insert one teeny tiny period in the wrong place on an email address.

Some guy in Fargo thinks you want to lick syrup from his naval and shower until the water runs cold.

You're right, dude. They were definitely not meant for you. Lesson learned about the importance of accuracy and details.