Dear OC,

I still have a thing for you, even though I know I shouldn't. I wish you'd never kissed me, that we never talked about getting together. But in a lot of ways I also wish that we'd talked more, been together more, done more of anything. Because while my husband accepts me as who and what I am (a selfish, lazy person with serious only child issues), you always understood why I was that way. We're so similar to each other that you drive me crazy pretty much all the time in both good ways and bad. You're also the only person I've ever felt self-concious around. I'm not sure what to think of that.

The point is now, though, that I need to turn my thoughts elsewhere, and I intend to try.

Happy seventeen years of tormenting each other
Q.E.

P.s. I think that movie you said you were going to take me to go see the month before I started dating Husband pretty much sums us up: I love it, but I didn't see it until it went out of theatres.