Today’s visit to the Wayback Machine comes from February 13, 2012. This entry was an open letter to a man who wrote asking for a favor that made me lose my shit.
Now, Karyn can attest to some of the outrageous things people have requested from both of us over the years. I remember a woman who expected me to pay off one of her lower-balance credit cards because I’d sold my first book and I should share my good fortune. (That one did set me off, considering I had to keep working my $12/hour temp job for two years until I sold my third book.) Another time, someone wanted me to travel a couple of hours each way to go visit her sick friend in the hospital, and if I could bring her an assortment of my books, that’d be even better. She even gave me step by step instructions on how I should announce my surprise. (I didn’t know any of these people, BTW.)
As I’ve been perusing my archives for these posts, I’m struck by exactly how much of my life I’ve forgotten. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing, because it means my head’s full of new information. For example, I’m currently re-learning Italian on DuoLingo. If I don’t recall old shit that’s been documented, but I’m able to order a bottle of wine and ask where the shoe store is, I’m fine with that. I don’t need to keep everything at top of mind, especially if it lives on somewhere on the Internet.
However, this post—this one I recall vividly because the audacity of the ask still pisses me off eleven years later. Basically, this guy cheated on his wife a whole bunch of times and she caught him. He thought the best way to win back her favor was to have me call her and talk him up, as she was a fan of my books. And he made the point that if I chose not to help him and his family then fell apart, it would be my fault.
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