Dear friends,

I have declared it illegal for you all to worry about me. Now stop it and trust my judgment, just a bit!

It's against the rules to doubt me so! Yeah, yeah, you worry cause you care, sure sure. Whatever! You worry because you do not trust me.

This is mostly directed towards my friend Steph, who does not read this. (Some of you worry, probably with some right, because I send you venting emails. Steph doesn't approve of my behavior, which I really can't much stand for. I don't think she's really in a position to judge my behavior.)

I've decided that every instance of explosive meanness towards men has been an instance of sexual frustration on my part. Even, and especially, when I wouldn't admit this to myself. God, it's almost worse then. It has always been the case with me, even before I went to an all-girls school. You probably all knew this was the case, but isn't it nice that I've come around, eh?

I think I've fallen into deep, intellectual love with one of my professors. I don't want to jump him or something, but it's like I want to say to him - "Look, you're a kindred spirit and I want to spend the rest of my life working with you (without ruining your marriage, also I am not hot for you.)" My classes with him are that good. Like, so good I consider coming here to do postgraduate work with him. That good!

And, finally, beautiful non-awkward time spent with my friend. You know, the guy I slept with. He's so cute. I laugh at him a lot. He laughs at me too. He's my friend! Lovely lovely. The only times things with him have been bad is when I'm a fucking nutcase, egregiously self conscious, and bad weird (and I have my theories about this, you know). Also sexually frustrated, but that's no reason that I should be weird towards him.

I've had a handful of beautiful conversations that left me feeling buzzingly alive.

I have to go grocery shopping but I love you all and QUIT WORRYING,

-Margaret

2003-02-17, letter

before / after

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