It was 2:45am and I was dressed as a transvestite bride elegantly sporting a travel satchel, fully equipped with a portable shot of vodka and my passport – the essentials. Having accepted the night’s defeat, I was in an home-bound Uber when I received an interesting letter from an old hand
Word for (regrettable) word, this is what it had to say.
“Sorry to be an honest old man.
Follow your destiny, but please, don’t be an old man about it.
You’re actually super cool and deserve recognition for being awesome, but do not go to your head:
I’m an old hand and know you do what you want you want.
You’re beautiful…don’t spoil your options.
Any way, nice to meet don’t spoil your options…your…lovely. Hopefully see you again in Australia. “
Perhaps he’s no Shakespeare, but this is – and forever will be – the best letter a man could write me.