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Description
  Dearest Pickle  
You are a spectacular woman. I have told you this on many occasions, both when I believe you have earned the right to or when you’ve simply needed to hear it. Either way, and for whatever reason, I am convinced it’s true.  You are spectacular.  You are extraordinary, and whatever you’ll do and wherever you’ll go with your life, I am certain it’s going to be just that, extraordinary. You’ve had problems and challenges trying to hold you back, but you’ve come through them strongly and confidently. You are capable. You are resourceful.  
And you are fun.
 These past 13 months that I have spent with you have been among the best of my life. I have experienced, felt, seen, done, heard, said, eaten, drunk, grown so much and in so many good ways that I can hardly believe where I was at 15 months ago, or that, looking back at it, I could be where I am now. Your presence has been a great part in this.   
But it has not been the only reason.

I am many things. Not all of them good.  I am arrogant; let’s just get that one out nice and early. I am confident in my views, strong in my opinions, and idealistic in my beliefs. And I take pride in them, and in what my core values are.  I am also a hypocrite, as behind my arrogant posture lies an intense desire to be liked and an incredibly needy ego that constantly needs to be attended to.  Apart from this I may at times take great offence at small slights or even be relentless in my dislike of someone or something. I will swear too much too loudly, be merciless in my judgment of others and demand of people what I expect them to be able to deliver, regardless of extenuating circumstances.  I have at times in my past done and said things to people who didn’t deserve them, and, at times, even more shamefully, avoided doing or saying things to people who did.
 I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am a coward.
  In purely physical terms I am despite my height a fair few kilos of muscles short of the ideal, and then there’s that regrettable nose.   

But, just as my 13 months have not been all you, my flaws are not all of me.   
I am a man who can keep a conversation in five languages, with a high school diploma in three. I left for university with grades permitting me to choose what path I wanted, and currently have a degree in two foreign languages from universities in their respective countries. I have four times been nominated and elected for the student council.
 I am a student whom others come to for tips, advice and discussions. 
I am a teacher whom raised a flunker to a 4/6, whom students talk to outside of the classroom and listen to within it.
 I am a health worker whom colleagues trust, and am greeted by name and with a smile from old patients who are sad to the point of tears when my shift for the summer is over. 
I am a member of the society who donates 17% of my disposable income to charity.
 I am a footballer whom clubs spend money on to have play for their team.
I excel in most sports (as long as they’re not taking place in water!).
 I am capable of running a 1 hour 45 minute half marathon, and I have finished a full one.  
I bench press 75 kg.
I dance a mean waltz.  

 I wrote a 50 000 word novel in 50 days. Though it was never picked up, I was still asked to write a second draft for further evaluation.  
I have had one of my short stories highlighted on the front page of the world’s largest art & literature site.  
I am competent at drawing, specializing in male portraits.  
I am utter shit at painting, yet still manage to be content with the process, and usually create something that’s if not good then at least interesting.
 More importantly, I am able to express myself in a number of ways and frequently do so.
 After my grandfather’s death, I bought a ukulele with the inheritance money. I have made a diddely-bo from scratch. 
I have a box of painting gear underneath my bed that is yet to be left untouched for more than 7 days in a row.
 When I wake up in the morning, my dresser, in the shape of a Ben inspired figure, tells me (in French) that I have too many clothes. 
My writing desk is a beach, with shells I picked from the Mexican Gulf.
 Oh yeah. Here come the travels.

 I have seen the Eiffel tower, the leaning tower of Pisa, and the Empire State building.
 I learned to walk on Hadrian’s Wall, and lack fingers when counting my visits to London.  
I have seen Paris 5 times in the past 12 months.  
I have fought the waves of the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, and the Pacific ocean, dipped my head in the Black and North sea, and stood on the beach and pissed in the Gulf of Mexico.
 Strangely I am most pleased with this last one.  
I crossed 9 countries in Eastern Europe, on my own, travelling solely by train, for 3 weeks, with a card that only worked for half the trip, and I thrived.  
I met people, made connections, and grew from the experience.

I have friends on every continent on the planet.  
I have people to turn to when I need them to be there, and people turn to me when they need someone, because they know they can rely on me.  
I am open to meeting new people, and am easy to talk to.  
I have a particular skill in including and noticing people if they are feeling out of place and uncomfortable.  
I have friends who may not stimulate me, but whom I know appreciate our friendship and I give them time because I know they value it.
 I am not too cool to talk to anyone.  
I include and take special effort in making people feel as if they are wanted and appreciated in social situations and events. 
I plan my friends’ and family’s presents thoughtfully, weeks in advance.
 I never feel happier than when I know I am making someone else happier then they would be if I weren’t there.  

And Pickle, you may be better at me than much. I said you are spectacular. I truly believe that. I have previously also told you that you are way too good for me.  I no longer believe that.  You may be better than me at most of what I have listed up here, and be able to objectively prove it. You may find flaws in me that you don’t have. You may find strengths in yourself that I am missing. You may convincingly give evidence for being a prettier, morally better and more interesting human being than I am, or am ever going to be.  
But you are never, ever, going to convince me you are too good for me.  No one will be able to, just like no one will ever convince me that they themselves are.  

I am a man of many vices and virtues. I hope, when I am lowered in the ground, that they will be able to truthfully say that I was not only a good man, but an interesting one.  And until then, I am going to respect myself enough to act on my strengths, work on my weaknesses, and never again let anyone make me believe I am beneath them.

Description
  Dearest Pickle  
You are a spectacular woman. I have told you this on many occasions, both when I believe you have earned the right to or when you’ve simply needed to hear it. Either way, and for whatever reason, I am convinced it’s true.  You are spectacular.  You are extraordinary, and whatever you’ll do and wherever you’ll go with your life, I am certain it’s going to be just that, extraordinary. You’ve had problems and challenges trying to hold you back, but you’ve come through them strongly and confidently. You are capable. You are resourceful.  
And you are fun.
 These past 13 months that I have spent with you have been among the best of my life. I have experienced, felt, seen, done, heard, said, eaten, drunk, grown so much and in so many good ways that I can hardly believe where I was at 15 months ago, or that, looking back at it, I could be where I am now. Your presence has been a great part in this.   
But it has not been the only reason.

I am many things. Not all of them good.  I am arrogant; let’s just get that one out nice and early. I am confident in my views, strong in my opinions, and idealistic in my beliefs. And I take pride in them, and in what my core values are.  I am also a hypocrite, as behind my arrogant posture lies an intense desire to be liked and an incredibly needy ego that constantly needs to be attended to.  Apart from this I may at times take great offence at small slights or even be relentless in my dislike of someone or something. I will swear too much too loudly, be merciless in my judgment of others and demand of people what I expect them to be able to deliver, regardless of extenuating circumstances.  I have at times in my past done and said things to people who didn’t deserve them, and, at times, even more shamefully, avoided doing or saying things to people who did.
 I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am a coward.
  In purely physical terms I am despite my height a fair few kilos of muscles short of the ideal, and then there’s that regrettable nose.   

But, just as my 13 months have not been all you, my flaws are not all of me.   
I am a man who can keep a conversation in five languages, with a high school diploma in three. I left for university with grades permitting me to choose what path I wanted, and currently have a degree in two foreign languages from universities in their respective countries. I have four times been nominated and elected for the student council.
 I am a student whom others come to for tips, advice and discussions. 
I am a teacher whom raised a flunker to a 4/6, whom students talk to outside of the classroom and listen to within it.
 I am a health worker whom colleagues trust, and am greeted by name and with a smile from old patients who are sad to the point of tears when my shift for the summer is over. 
I am a member of the society who donates 17% of my disposable income to charity.
 I am a footballer whom clubs spend money on to have play for their team.
I excel in most sports (as long as they’re not taking place in water!).
 I am capable of running a 1 hour 45 minute half marathon, and I have finished a full one.  
I bench press 75 kg.
I dance a mean waltz.  

 I wrote a 50 000 word novel in 50 days. Though it was never picked up, I was still asked to write a second draft for further evaluation.  
I have had one of my short stories highlighted on the front page of the world’s largest art & literature site.  
I am competent at drawing, specializing in male portraits.  
I am utter shit at painting, yet still manage to be content with the process, and usually create something that’s if not good then at least interesting.
 More importantly, I am able to express myself in a number of ways and frequently do so.
 After my grandfather’s death, I bought a ukulele with the inheritance money. I have made a diddely-bo from scratch. 
I have a box of painting gear underneath my bed that is yet to be left untouched for more than 7 days in a row.
 When I wake up in the morning, my dresser, in the shape of a Ben inspired figure, tells me (in French) that I have too many clothes. 
My writing desk is a beach, with shells I picked from the Mexican Gulf.
 Oh yeah. Here come the travels.

 I have seen the Eiffel tower, the leaning tower of Pisa, and the Empire State building.
 I learned to walk on Hadrian’s Wall, and lack fingers when counting my visits to London.  
I have seen Paris 5 times in the past 12 months.  
I have fought the waves of the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, and the Pacific ocean, dipped my head in the Black and North sea, and stood on the beach and pissed in the Gulf of Mexico.
 Strangely I am most pleased with this last one.  
I crossed 9 countries in Eastern Europe, on my own, travelling solely by train, for 3 weeks, with a card that only worked for half the trip, and I thrived.  
I met people, made connections, and grew from the experience.

I have friends on every continent on the planet.  
I have people to turn to when I need them to be there, and people turn to me when they need someone, because they know they can rely on me.  
I am open to meeting new people, and am easy to talk to.  
I have a particular skill in including and noticing people if they are feeling out of place and uncomfortable.  
I have friends who may not stimulate me, but whom I know appreciate our friendship and I give them time because I know they value it.
 I am not too cool to talk to anyone.  
I include and take special effort in making people feel as if they are wanted and appreciated in social situations and events. 
I plan my friends’ and family’s presents thoughtfully, weeks in advance.
 I never feel happier than when I know I am making someone else happier then they would be if I weren’t there.  

And Pickle, you may be better at me than much. I said you are spectacular. I truly believe that. I have previously also told you that you are way too good for me.  I no longer believe that.  You may be better than me at most of what I have listed up here, and be able to objectively prove it. You may find flaws in me that you don’t have. You may find strengths in yourself that I am missing. You may convincingly give evidence for being a prettier, morally better and more interesting human being than I am, or am ever going to be.  
But you are never, ever, going to convince me you are too good for me.  No one will be able to, just like no one will ever convince me that they themselves are.  

I am a man of many vices and virtues. I hope, when I am lowered in the ground, that they will be able to truthfully say that I was not only a good man, but an interesting one.  And until then, I am going to respect myself enough to act on my strengths, work on my weaknesses, and never again let anyone make me believe I am beneath them.