Defending My Honor

A couple of days ago, my better half, HB, received an email from an old childhood friend. This friend--let's call him D.--felt slighted that HB hadn't made a better effort to be a part of D's life today and that their friendship was slowly dissolving. One of the reasons D. thought HB intentionally stayed away was because of me:

"If you're mad at me because you think I hate your fiance, you shouldn't be. You are my friend and that is what I care about. Who you want to marry is your choice and as long as you're happy, I'm happy."

WTF!? First of all, HB NEVER thought that D. hated me. So, the only reason D. feels the need to negate the fact that he hates me in his email is because there's a nugget of truth to it. Second of all, despite my self-loathing tendencies, I still think of myself as a kind of a catch. If someone did a profile on me, you'd be hard pressed to figure out if I was just a boy in a girl's body.

My boss once described me to a Wired writer over lunch to describe how I was the perfect audience for his writing and the magazine: tech and gadget junkie, gamer, obsessive blog reader, TV addict, closet convention attending Star Trek fan, etc. After profiling me, this Wired writer asks my boss, "And your assistant's a girl? You do realize that unless she has a unibrow, she'd be swimming in phone numbers in this industry."

Seriously though, I think I'm a good person and worthy of HB. I come from a good family, I was a good student my whole life, got a great education, and have a blossoming career in book publishing. What's wrong with me?

Nothing, I say.