Originally published here.
Dear Ben (can I call you Ben?),
When first I read of your engagement, I must confess to some feelings of shock and dismay. After all, given the prodigious extent of our previous interactions, I had been led to believe that you would, firstly, have taken my feelings into consideration before making this announcement publicly, and secondly, been too busy banging me up against a table to write anything down at all.
Ben, I don’t think you understand how much you have hurt me by your actions. So I have taken it upon myself to itemize my hurt so that, come that inevitable day when you split with your current beau, having realised your true, irrevocable feelings for moi, you know exactly what you need to rectify in order to win me back.
When you first looked at me, I knew you loved me
You must have known it too, Ben, or your eyes wouldn’t have widened so. You wouldn’t have been so pale. You wouldn’t have stared out at me with such intense and studied focus. I know the look of love, Ben. I’ve seen it once before in the eyes of Leonardo Di Caprio, circa 1997, but I turned him down, then. He was too young. We were both too young.
Your smile was our engagement
Young people think you need rings, Ben, to show your love, but all you need is an expression of hope and trust and joy, and we shared that. Sometimes, Ben, you look at Martin with that same face, but I’m prepared to overlook that. He’s very short. You might be looking over him. At me.
I’ve Tweeted about you a lot
It’s not the stuff of romance letters, or initials carved on trees – it’s better, more public, more permanent. In 140 characters, 1000 times over, I’ve told you how I feel. And I know you’ve seen them, because I @ mentioned you. I know how the internet works, Ben. I’m a very intelligent woman.
I know that you’re not actually Sherlock
Some people seem confused by this, but not I. Beneath the hat and the coat and the scowl is a man that I know very well, and while you might argue that reading someone’s Wikipedia page 300 times is not equal to really knowing someone, on that point we must disagree. It took a long time, and I screen capped the important parts.
She’s not good enough for you
I don’t actually know who she is, because I don’t care, but that does not change my certainty.
I knew that you were Smaug without anyone even telling me
Well, I might have read it somewhere, but I would have known. It’s your fiery nature, Ben. CGI can’t mask it. And when you breathed the fire, I felt warm, 1000 miles away in my living room. That’s how I knew.
Anyway, Ben, you’re a busy man, and I love you enough to know that you’ll need time to read and absorb this, and then come back to me, because you never do anything without careful consideration – except, oh wait, telling someone else that you were going to marry them when you’re clearly not because WE are in love.
You know what I’m going to do, though, Ben? I’m going to forgive you. And I’m going to wait for you. And when you’re ready, I’ll be at 221B Baker Street, waiting. Or I might be in the Pret on the corner, if it’s raining.