Two pieces of a two-piece puzzle

This evening, Grey called me to talk. We had a great conversation. Mostly about his workaholic tendencies. He said he had a little epiphany. In under 10 minutes. It's not so much that I was brilliant as he actually listened to me for a change. So I wrote him another unsent email.

I know you hate getting these emails from me but I've been thinking about our conversation today. The part when you implied that my thinking that the sun shines out of your ass is not that big a deal. But I beg to differ. A week ago you told me that I was "all that and a bag of chips". (Salt and vinegar, remember?) You may not remember but you also said I was beautiful and intelligent and funny. There are a lot of things you don't know about me. You've never been to my apartment. You've never met my coworkers, or even talked to me about my work. You haven't even begun to scratch the surface with me. You're right that I'm beautiful and intelligent and funny. I am all those things.

I'm also successful as a young woman of visible minority in a male-dominated, Caucasian-dominated field. I am assertive and confident and know how to ask for what I want. I pick my battles and I don't waste time with people who are immature or stupid or conceited. When the world gets hostile and angry, I am evolved enough to look inside myself instead of getting angry and blaming those around me for my misery. I have wonderful friends and that says a lot more for my character than all the things I have just said.

The fact that you're not willing or able to accept my high opinion of you says more about you than it does about me. It says that you're not willing to accept that you're equally as amazing, if not more so, than I am. Why? What are you overcompensating for? Do you work too hard because you think that will make up for your lack of education? Your lack of height? Your imperfect spelling? Are you really a bad person and we're all wrong about you? I don't think so. I think that you use your job to prop up your self-esteem. If you were fired today, who would you be? What are you afraid of? I think you're the cat's pyjamas. You should too.

On October 8, I wrote you a letter. In that letter, I made a list of things I liked about you. I wrote some of those down in your birthday card but I didn't tell you everything. Here it is. If, after reading this list, you still think that you don't deserve to have everything you want in life and more, shoot me for being such an idiot about you.