Recently, I got a correspondence from a reader of this site. He said he liked my writing, and would I like to keep in touch?
SURE. Someone wants to be a pen pal because of my great and inspiriting writing? Of course I am interested. Are you thinking ‘weird, you should be suspicious. Could be a serial killer, man. Right? Not me. I am kinda a big deal… or so I thought that day. On any given day my unique views range from 100 of you to 1,000 of you. I could probably get it more constant if I were more aggressive about adding fresh content.
Now that I am temporarily unemployed, I pledge to do that. Problem is, when I started this… my voice was unique. I was doing this back in 2003. I was looking and news and popular culture with a snarky and brilliant perspective. Guess what, there are a trillion sites and shows that do that now. I predate the Daily Show, Salon, Break.com, Perez Hilton… whatever shit you read. It was just me and CNN on the web.
So, I have made a few pen pals over the years, and a few enemies. I treasure each. So when this guy says “i like your writing, let’s keep in touch”, I was thrilled. Let’s call this guy ‘Myron’. Don’t worry, that isn’t his real name. I have never seen or met him, but I bet he looks like a Myron.
So, I write dude back saying as much. He responds the next day with “great, I will let you know my rates”.
Just let that sink in for a minute, like I had to.
So, you want me to pay you to talk to me? Uh… if I had trouble expressing myself, I wouldn’t be writing damn near for a living. Plus, I am unemployed. So, I went from thinking before this last exchange “I wonder if he lives in Colorado, too. That would be fun.” to my thoughts after this last exchange “omg, I hope he doesn’t live in Colorado, too. I hope he doesn’t know that I live in Colorado. Any real pictures of me on this site anywhere? Nope, except for me at 5”. Because this is just weird and creepy now.
I write back politely that I am not looking for pay for pen pals, but thanks for the nice thought and interest in my writing. I was, as I always try and be, polite and professional. Just a simple mis-understanding, right? I have to assume he isn’t trying to Myron-rape me. Didn’t thing Myron-rape was a word, didja? Well, it wasn’t… until about 45 seconds ago. You are welcome.
‘Myron’ writes back and apologizes for the mis-communique. Phew, I think. It takes a turn for the weirder very quickly. He says, and I quote “I have helped lots of lesbians, and I can help you, too”.
What the fuck does that mean, I wonder? Let’s evaluate it. First off, I guess he thinks I am a lesbian. That is kinda weird, but no biggie. I am very liberal and very pro gay rights. So, if you read my stuff I guess I could see that? Then, though, we see he wants to ‘fix’ me. Meaning, I think, that he wants to help me to NOT be a lesbian. Well, it looks like maybe he does want to get all Myron-rapey on me after all. Well, good sir, were I a lesbian… I reckon I would be quite a content one.
At this point in time, I am of two minds. The first part is thinking ‘egads, distance yourself QUICKLY from this nutball.’ The other half of my mind is saying ‘oh man, this is GOLD. This will make good material. Let’s see where it goes.’
To respect your time, I will cut to the end. The service Myron offers is stock predictions. Not in a financial analysis kinda way, but a psychic kinda way… I think. So, he says he has the numbers to prove his predictions WAY pay for themselves. He was simply saying, in a poor and creepy way ‘for a tiny investment up front, maybe that of a pound of good coffee, I can show you how to make great money in the market using me as your advisor’.
What does that have to do with my writing or politics? What does that have to do with lesbians? He still writes me, which is kind of him. I positively believe he only has good intentions. I am just a bit creeped out by him, though. So, I don’t open or reply to the emails. However, I also don’t have the balls to write him back and ask him to drop me from his list. I don’t want him showing up at my doorstep a week later with an axe crying ‘I thought we were friends, MAN‘.
So, that is about how successful my job hunt has been going this week. Let’s leave with this: I am looking for work, I am not looking for friends. I am also not looking to change my love of women and boobies. Call me a lesbian all you want. In fact, America, I am boobstrong®!