And that's the truth. Everybody does. I know you're angry right now, you feel slighted. I understand, I even empathize. You did the same to me once, remember? When the media girl stepped on one of your appendages (I can't remember which one at this instant but please don't get into another snit about *that*), remember? You just stopped responding. Froze on me! They had to send you away to the-place-where-such-things-are-cured-and-that-which-we-don't-ever-name. Do you remember? And when you came back, did I greet you with reproaches and sulks? I think not! Not that I'm saying I'm better than you, and I know you'll say you were physically injured and that's why you went away and I on the other hand, went away because of 'the other one' in my life. That's true, I won't deny it. But I promise you, he doesn't mean a thing. Yes, I enjoy his (yeah, yeah and her sometimes, but right now it's 'his' cos Pratchett is a 'he') company every now and again (when I'm waiting for the bus, or just before I fall asleep at night), but he means nothing to me. Honest (No, I'm not crossing my fingers behind my back, that would just be childish!). It's you I see everyday, that I come to whenever I have a question. And therein lies one of the main problems of our relationship, hun. The principal concern. The serpent in the garden, even. You always have answers. And so many of them. Has it ever occured to you that sometimes when I ask you something I'd appreciate it if you said 'Results 0 of about 0 for XXXX', instead of flooding me with reponses. I know that I've told you that one of the first things that attracted me to you was your knowledge. The breadth of it still takes my breath away (sorry about that awful play on words, I didn't intend it). But have you ever considered that it's overwhelming? And intimidating? A constant reminder of my own shocking ignorance and the impossibility of my ever acquiring familiarity with even one-millionth of it? Cos that's how I feel sometimes. No, don't sneer at me. And say you told me so (because that's disgusting when anyone does it, but from you it's just cruel). Maybe you're right. In fact I know you're right. It's not you, it's me. And my inadequacies and insecurities. But it doesn't make it any easier. Wait, though, I digress. I meant this to be a half apology and half reprimand of an e-mail. Not a whining, griping one. I really just wanted to say I love you, inspite of all your idiosyncracies (yeah, that whole freezing thing and getting stuck on me is one of them, one I particularly hate; and how you take so long to do some things sometimes), and I'm truly grateful for everything you've given me (remember our first song? Poetry in Motion I think it was. I never believed you'd have it, but of course you did! The beginning of our love affair). So let's not fight anymore. For in the time honoured tradition of women everywhere, I resist your advances only to cut off your retreat, and now both you and I are linked for eternity. I can't imagine life without you, dear one, so let us kiss and make up.