Future Me

A few years ago (well, two, to be exact), a friend of mine turned me on to what is called "Future Me." The premise is that you write yourself a simple email that will be delivered at some date in the future. You can write whatever you want, make some predictions – it’s your email, to you, from you.

And it’s hilarious.

On the website, FutureMe.org, you can see some random posts that other people have decided to mark as public. I’ve spent the last 45 minutes alternating between cracking up and feeling really sorry for people and how hard they are on themselves; most of them, though, are both funny and intraspective, like:

Dear FutureMe,
You better still be with Joe, and if your not I hope you realise what
you had was so special for a teenager. Most 30 year olds are still
looking for someone to love who returns their every feeling. You’ll
never find a better bf, Joe is loyal, considerate, kind, generous,
selfless, and he’s even rich and has a 7" penis. Don’t loose him,
whatever you do.

Others seem to be somewhat hard on themselves…

Dear FutureMe,
I think I’ve already sent one of these. I am not sure. So, how did the
research position thing turn out? I imagine you fucked that one up big
time. Good going fuckhole. This was sent on March 5th 2005.

Some are somewhat obscure…

Dear FutureMe,
I hope you aren’t a billy goat. Even though that would be cool. Are
there robots taking over? If yes that must suck. Unless they do your
homework or something.

Some are emphatically threatening…

Subject: Are you still a fucking loser?

yes you are AHAHAHAHAAH aha! fucking reject mother fucker! this is you
from the past d00d and if you dont have a job by then i swaer to god
ima get in a time machine come there and FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION
then disapeer as myteriously as i came… IN YOUR HAIR!!!!!!!

And others, well, others are from me, 2 years ago…

Dear FutureMe,
I hope
by now you’re married, or at least in a relationship. I hope that
you’ve had lots of rampant, mind-blowing sex, are out of debt, and have
finally shampooed your carpet. I hope that you’re officially over that [name withheld]-asshole, that your cats are healthy, and that Google has gone

But the sex…did I mention the sex? Yeah. Lots of it.

Love, Me

…and a snippet of another one from me, last year.

Dear FutureMe,

year, you accomplished much of your goals – you’re out of debt, Google
went public, you’re (mostly) over [name withheld] (w/just a little recent
setback) and yes! You shampooed your carpet. Bravo, Aubrey, your Future
Self is very, very proud of you.  But the sex? The fabulous rampant
mind-blowing sex? Hmm. Didn’t really happen.  Damn.

So this year, I think we
make a few more lofty goals. Since I also didn’t accomplish the
‘married, or at least in a serious relationship’ goal, let’s go with
that one again. As for a job, you’re probably still at Google, though I
hope you’re doing something more fun than mind-numbing keyword
expansion. I hope you’ve had a chance to again travel abroad, and you’ve sold your townhouse and are in a fabulous new single
residence. I also hope that Lila Belle has stopped biting you 3500
times an hour.

Repeat after me: MIND. BLOWING. SEX.

Love, Me

Wonder what next year’s will say?

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