subject. Hi, it's Ashley from Twitter.

Date Friday December 20th 2013 at 351 PM.

Hi Lena, I said I'd email you, but I don't have anything significant to email you about.

Still, when you say you'll do something, you should. So I am.

Have you ever made a friend on the internet like a real friend?

Not just someone who likes your more obscure Instagrams of 90s lesbian indie film characters,

but someone you can call from Amsterdam at 2 in the morning when you're on your book tour and losing your fucking mind?

Someone you entrust with your house keys before you've ever hugged them.

Something you can talk comfortably with about uncomfortable things.

That's what Ashley Ford is to me. It all started here.

In lieu of anything significant to share, how about I share a worry?

Something normal and natural. I think that'll do.

My boyfriend, my young Ira Glass, was raised much differently than I.

He was cradled in affection and support in a way I wasn't.

Thank goodness because I have to assume that's why I have such an amazing boyfriend.

I spent Thanksgiving in LA with his family, mom, dad, sister, amazing single aunt who doesn't have children and is a retired president of Black Ma.

They liked me Lena, and I didn't feel good enough for them to like me.

How's this for feminist? I almost never understand why anyone would want to talk to me or read what I write.

I'm still fighting something in my gut that suspects I'm so much more mediocre than I realize.

I'm Lena Dunham and this is my podcast, Women of the Hour.

I started this show. It's a mini series, five episodes plus some bonus stuff,

to celebrate the women who blow my mind.

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