Back in 2002, our friend Jay Patrikios co-founded an awesome site called FutureMe.org that lets you send an email to your future self. Their theory being, memories are less accurate than emails. Also, email is more reliable than your since-retired (or since-gone-off-the-rails or since-dead) high school English teacher who made you write a letter to your future self and promised to mail it out ten years after graduation. (Seriously, has anyone ever received theirs? We're still waiting.)

Anyway, FutureMe.org is now a book called Dear Future Me, so you can eavesdrop on what everyone else wants to tell their future selves. People by turns scold, warn, remind, or lecture their future mes, but mostly, they just talk. Like, friend to friend. It's awfully sweet and inspiring and sometimes terribly sad. After the jump we've posted an excerpt.

In the meantime, why not send a sex-related Future Me note to self? Some ideas: (1) List everything that you're insecure about in bed and hope to change. (2) Describe the hot sex you had last weekend (it's like putting money in the masturbatory fantasy bank!). (3) List the things you're convinced you'll never try or never enjoy in bed (man, we wish we'd done this one in high school). (4) Write your future self a sexual to-do list (it'll be like the dominatrix of Christmas past!).

Excerpt from Dear Future Me by Jay Patrikios & Matt Sly (F+W Publications, 2007)

Dear FutureMe,

I'm writing to you because I don't have an old friend to talk to today. C. and I were together last night. We lay all but naked on my loft. He wanted to do things I'd never done and I'd pull his hand away or say "stop--just not right now"--but he kept trying and eventually I just let him. I told him he could touch but I didn't want him to look. He said "don't be shy, don't be emberressed--I want to help you be comfortable with yourself." I had asked him before we did anything if he will regret it later--he said no. He put his hands down my pants. I felt him too. Later, he said he had to go so his roommates wouldn't be suspicious. He scrunched up his face and said he felt guilty and he hoped I felt guilty too. I said I've never been with a guy who didn't feel guilty. I told him I didn't want him to leave because I'd be alone. "look--maybe I should explain to you where I stand on these things" "no no I understand--" I interrupted. "I'm a christian and--" he continued. I wondered if he knew what a hypocrite he was making of himself saying that. "look, I've been here before. I understand." I said to him. This was all too familiar from D. He fumbled around for his clothes. "are you ok?" he asked, halfway out the door. "yeah." Maybe it was too much too fast. I guess we went physically where we weren't emotionally. He called me Mary.

written: 2006-02-05
sending: 2007-02-05