Dear LA Woman,
I think you're angry about what I said about [UNDISCLOSED RICH GUY]. You shouldn't be. Really. I was only kidding you, perhaps busting your gonads, but only slightly. I wasn't trying to hassle you. It was more of a statement about me than you. I don't know [UNDISCLOSED RICH GUY], but I hate him because I hate rich people in general, and my attitude is to exploit the bastards at all costs. It's not about you. It's about me.
And of course your boyfriend would have green eyes. I think that we are really the same person, living in parallel universes. It's like in the Star Trek episode where the crew beamed into the anti-matter universe where their evil counterparts lived, though I am really not sure if I am your good (matter) boyfriend or your evil (anti-matter) boyfriend. I like Pacifica. Your boyfriend likes NPR. Who is the evil one? That's unclear. But I prefer to think of myself as the evil one. I think that there is perhaps an evil LA Woman lurking around the East Coast somewhere. She probably looks a lot like you and shares your interests and has your temperament, though I doubt if she's as good as you -- for she is evil!
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