HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRETTY MAN WITH THE SALMON-COLORED PEEPEE‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️

LO, Holy ****, you're 26. I'm so sad I hadn't known you yet when you turned 25 because I would have just spent the entire day asking you, "You know what's funnier than 24?" and we would end the day with our tummies hurting because we'd just be laughing all day. But NO. You're turning 26, not 25. You still look 23 though. That's okay. I haven't figured out what I'm gonna give you for your birthday yet in terms of an actual present instead of just this letter. I am thinking about the possibilities as I am writing this. You're kind of hard to give gifts to, which is a lot coming from me, an absolute gift-giver. Not only am I a gift-giver, I'm a homebrew gift-giver. **** you. I'm writing this from the Neighbour's Table, looking out the window as it pours heavily outside. Really wishing you were here so I can squeeze your pinky finger every time it thunders. But NO. I'm a big girl, and you're way over there, so I put my headphones on and write a letter to your future self instead. In all honesty, Lo, you're a confusing ****. But I adore that about you at the same time. There are times when I look at you and still wonder how the **** we got to where we are now. I remember when we first hung out, the morning after, when I went to the office, I showed everyone your Instagram and said, "This is what ****** me last night. You're telling me this face card ****** me last night. You're telling me he told me to say thank you. He told me to say thank you. Oh god. And he's deliciously ******* weird too. This ******* guy welcomed me into his room and showed me League! Of all things! He was slapping my face with his **** when he pulled out that nerd card before he even touched my lips! Oh my god. Oh my god." You're so pretty btw. In case it wasn't clear enough. I think you're very pretty. You're the prettiest. You're my best boy. You have changed so much since then, though. I can say the same thing about myself but this is not about me—this is about YOU. You ************. You did it. You hit me out of left field. You caught me by surprise. You threw me for a loop. When I first went to see you I was fully prepared to dip and slip, to **** and flake. You seemed to me like any other Canggu **** boy, only to find, MONTHS after, that you are a chill, cuddly, kinky, touchy little Pererenan guy. Loving, warm, odd. Safe. Gezellig. Hygge. All that. And I remember when you told me that everything you're doing in life right now is to shape you up to be the best Dad in the world, and I think you're doing a **** good job at that. You're gentle, and accommodating, and logical, and rational, and even in your irrational moments, you know that responding is better than reacting, and you know how to communicate, and you teach so well, and you handhold even better, and when you comfort and correct and praise, you do it in a way that makes people feel EXCITED to make mistakes until they get what you're trying to get across. You're gonna be the best Dad ever. This is a lot coming from me, the girl who has only ever encountered bad Dads. Be proud of yourself for this. *****. I love to see it. For a long time, your affectionate way of showing attention through touch perplexed me. I was like, "This is not very hookup behavior." But in all honesty, looking back, I kind of knew from the moment I said yes to going to Gili with you that it wasn't going to stop at just hookup. And I'm glad of it. And I'll be glad of it forever, no matter what, because this confusion paired with your natural, easy touchiness granted me enough comfort and safety to understand my own intricacies. When I tell you I feel safe with you I say that with every atom that builds my being. I have learned so much about myself, about humans, about people, about love, about life—half the things I've learned, I've only learned because I met you. This, I will forever be grateful for. When you see me love loudly, remember that you can take a little bit of credit for that too. I have always loved to love loudly, but the way you show YOUR love of that, encourage that, and even celebrate that—the Jay that Jay has ever Jayed came back because of a lot of things, and you are one of these things. Happy birthday. Keep doing your thing. You're doing great. You're doing amazing. I am so proud of you. TELL ME WHY I'm actually learning **** about data science because you've been casually telling me stuff about your work. Your intention was never to teach me any of that, but I learned anyway. You like to tell me that you get a lot out of my happiness, and I should tell you that I soak up a lot from your experiences too. I love you. I love you. I love you. Happy birthday. With all the love in my heart (it's a lot of love and it's a really big heart), Jay. P.S. I still don't know what the present is going to be, but I have enough time to brainstorm, and if you're reading this before you open the present, I hope you like it.