Dear Marcus

Dear Marcus "Flutie Tutie" Flutie,

I need to tell you something. I suspect you are the man of my dreams with your penchant for cryptic one liners, observational poetry (a new genre that will explode in the new future, I am sure), lanky limbs and hypersexual proclivities.

Remember when I remarked that your creator, Megan McCafferty, failed to describe the state of your forearms let alone describe them adequately in the way I desired? Well, she is released from my bad books as she has more than adequately described your "pelvic V." Yes, the very one Katy Perry described as being the most attractive part of the male physique. And yes, your pelvic V must be very amazing and, if you really did exist and if you existed in 2013 instead of 2002 (?) as in the books, I think we would be meant to be.

To hell with the rest of them. We could sit on car hoods and stare out into shimmering city lights atop some sort of lookout just 15 minutes out of whatever podunk American town we deigned to reside in. We would live the perfect American YA novel. We would fight and lose touch then make up. The sex would be explosive. We would have a pregnancy scare but, doowop, it would thankfully come to pass that I was not pregnant. But then, tragedy, as we would find out the I was infertile, never to carry child. Ever.

Alternatively, I really would be pregnant but then, in some sort of accident, I would lose the child. We would both be distraught as we would realize that, hoo, we actually do want to have that picture perfect suburban life with the two kids (or three, in my case), Subaru and corn on the cob. Albeit, in an ironic way.

Alas, you are already gone. I am reading you some 10 years after the fact. After your creation. After you came to pass and after you came to leave. I'll always treasure you, Flutie Tutie. You are a fine fictional character.

J