Future Husband.

In the past year, I've probably referred to at least 40 guys as my future husbands: guys on the street; guys I know; guys I wish I could know; guys in movies; guys on stage; guys at my church; guys that play the guitar and sing soulfully, guys that give back; guys that love Jesus. 
Over the summer, I realized I'm not okay with this.  I'm not okay with some girl calling MY future husband hers, therefore, I'm not okay with calling hers mine.  I even put it on a goal sheet!  I never truly followed it.  It had just become a habit I couldn't break, even with my rubber band(cough, cough Jacob.)  Today, I realized my bad habit must be broken.  One of my best friends texted me and referred to a a guy she knew as her future husband.  There was a time where I thought this certain guy was my future husband(along with the 39 others) and so her text kind of caught me off guard.  For a second, I took offense to it.  Then, I realized just how hypocritical that was.  She probably got the bad "call every attractive male I see my future husband" habit from me, so who was I to be upset?  It was eye opening.  I don't hope to marry 40 men.  Just one, actually.  I know he'll be amazing and godly and will lead with a servant heart and if I'm lucky, he'll go for long runs with me and play folk songs on his guitar.  I pray every night that he's staying strong now and not giving his heart away; mentally or physically.  If he's praying the same thing for me, I've been letting him down, over and over.  The whole year of 17 was supposed to be dedicated to a guy fast that consisted of placing all my focus on God, so I was completely ready to date my prince when I turned 18.  I've realized recently, that that's stupid.  First of all, I cannot demand that God brings my prince charming along by the time I'm 18.  He's done enough for me already and I know I could never rush His amazing plan for my husband and I.  Plus, preparing my heart for a relationship might take over a year; especially at this rate.  I've been 17 for almost two months and they haven't been spent "guy-fasting."  They've been spent "guy-feasting" to say the least.  The moral of the story?  I have a lot of work to do on my inner self.  I have to completely retrain my thoughts and my mouth to keep "he's my future husband" out of my vocabulary until the day some guy drops down on one knee and pulls a diamond ring out of his cargo shorts.  Or jeans.  I'm down for either.  I am willing to wait for that day, because he's worth it. 
If you hear the words future husband come out of my mouth in reference to a certain person, be sure to slap me, even if it is Ryan Reynolds or James Franco.  They're married!  That makes it even worse!
Until engagement, the groom at the end of the aisle will remain faceless.  He'll be wearing converse, though.  My lips will also remain unkissed unless you count my 5-year old brother.  This seems like quite a task.  I should probably find a rubber band and my bible.