Confidential Document
hint: what you forget in three seconds
incorrect. try again.
A Formal Proposal. Please Try to Remember It.
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Dear Alisha,
I know you wanted a photo on text. You are getting a pitch deck. Adjust your expectations accordingly.
As you may recall from our email archives, dating back to October 2025, I sent you a pitch deck for a first date. You sent me a counter pitch deck. You signed every email as Head of Everything. I signed every email as Head of Personal Engagement and Strategy. Your earring lived on my nightstand for two weeks.
This is simply the next document in the series.
Note: Unlike that last email you never opened, this one you are already reading. Points to me.
This pitch deck exists to tell you that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. And I would like to handle this the way I handle everything important. With a formal proposal and unnecessary paperwork.
I am not going to call it a strategic partnership or optimize for ROI because honestly I just really like you and the corporate language only goes so far before it gets in the way of the actual thing I am trying to say.
So I wrote you this instead. Nine slides. All of it true. Some of it things I have never told you.
The Lego flowers are already with you. Those do not die. I got them because I wanted something between us to last longer than a week. That is the whole metaphor. You probably already got it.
Labor Day weekend. A casino where you played and lost and laughed about it. A hotel we forgot the name of and wandered around the city until we found it. Pizza at 2am where you fed me the crust because I said I liked it.
I did not like the crust. That was the worst crust I have ever eaten in my life. It tasted like a brick. I ate every single piece you handed me without saying a word.
That was the night I knew.
The crust thing remains classified. Until now.
I do not sleep well next to people. It is just a thing about me. Never have.
That night in San Diego I fell asleep next to you and it was the best sleep I had had in six months.
You already know what that period was like for me. So you will understand what I mean when I say that. Something about being next to you just turned the noise off completely.
I have thought about that more than I have ever told you.
This concludes the classified section. Please handle with appropriate care.
Per our email correspondence, fully preserved, unlike certain people's memories:
You called yourself Head of Everything on every single email. I never once disputed this. I simply worked within the established hierarchy and got what I wanted anyway.
I was already in it. It just took me a while to say it out loud.
"Glad to see the framework has been locked and approved. As for your proposed win, that will require further evaluation and will be revisited at a later stage."
Alisha Chadha, Head of Everything, October 2025. She knew then too.
You know I saw seals in San Diego and texted you immediately. You know I still send you the seals miss you and will continue to do so indefinitely.
What you might not know is that they have formally submitted their support for this proposal. I have the receipts.
The seals are very invested. Please do not let them down.
I know you have been careful. I know why. I am not asking you to stop being careful. I am just asking you to be careful with me, officially.
I just want to stop wondering and start knowing.
Dear Alisha, Head of Everything —
I know your memory is approximately three seconds long. So I am putting this in writing so you cannot forget it.
I want to be in aloos life. That is the whole thing.
Will you be my girlfriend? I brought flowers. That should tell you something.