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February 8, 2009
He despises me, but that's OK. I don't need or want his approval.

I know we're on the same side, and that prevents me from despising him, although I sometimes wish I could.

I can't hate him, but that doesn't mean I have to like him. I ask the waiter for a table as far away from his as possible.

He and his date glower at me from across the restaurant before we exchange artificial smiles and nods of recognition.

The fact that I have so much in common with such a boorish asshole makes me question my own judgment.