I don’t do these things with people who are not my friends

The letter request:

My ex husband just sent me a request to connect on LinkedIn. We divorced nearly two decades ago when he ran off with someone else and we’ve had zero contact since then. He did attempt contact once before but I told him then that I had no interest in being pen-pals of any kind. 

 

The letter:

Dear John

The brain is a precious organ that must be treated with the utmost care. Many things can cause it harm, including car accidents, infections and too much partying.

At one end of the spectrum, this type of damage can lead to death. At the other end, it might cause hallucinations and a belief in different planes of reality. You know, like Xenu or the cabbage soup diet or President Donald Trump.

In my plane of reality, I have friends and colleagues who mean a lot to me. We email, follow each other’s lives and careers on social media and catch up in person for hijinks, hilarity and heart-to-hearts. In my plane of reality, I don’t do these things with people who are not my friends. Which brings me to you.

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How did you decide who got to keep me?

The  letter request:

Good friends of mine, Matt and Elena, split up last year and while I thought I was equally friends with both of them, only Matt has stayed in contact with me.  I’ve tried to reach out to Elena but she seems to be avoiding me. I feel like they’ve decided amongst themselves who gets to keep me as a friend but the thing is, if I only get to be friends with one of them, I’d actually prefer Elena.

 

The letter: 

Dear Matt and Elena,

Let’s start by saying that I know you are no longer ‘Matt and Elena.’ It’s for simplicity (and transparency) that I address you both in the same letter. You know that biblical passage that people read at weddings: Love is patient and kind…Love never fails…? It’s a wish that gets stated as a truism. The reality is that sometimes love is an arsehole and fairly often it fails us dismally. I don’t need to tell you guys that.

It’s absolutely none of my business how the divorce proceedings panned out. I will never enquire about how you guys decided who kept the house, or who got the kids when or, perhaps most poignantly, who got to keep that super comfy couch.

What I am interested in is how your friends were divvied up. Specifically, how did you decide who got to keep me? I’ll tell you how things look from the outside: it appears that, like the dog, I’m staying with Matt. It appears that the decision has been made that Elena and I are no longer friends.

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Did you seriously just light that shit-stick?

The letter request:

Here is the situation. A lovely woman at my work has tried to set me up with a colleague of her friend. She told me he was a smoker and wanted to know if that was okay. I wasn’t really thinking and said ‘Sure, I’ll give it a go’. Said person (Rob) then emailed me. On the day he emailed me, a new friend from the sailing club died of lung cancer. A compelling reason to not date a smoker. Can you help with a reply for me to send Rob?

 

The letter:

Dear Rob,

I have something to confess. I’m a morning person. I literally bounce out of bed every single day. Bounce, I tell ya. I arrive at work at an hour when most other people are hitting snooze for the first of 25 times. I’m friendly with crisp air, shadowy moons that linger over early daylight and the peach glow of sunrise on inner city windows.

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Pack away the hula-hoops and never mention them again

The letter request:

I supervise this guy at work and I really think he should date another of our co-workers, because she’s great and they have a lot in common. I know nothing about him really so I’m not sure how to broach it. Is it bordering on sexual harassment? Can I tell him I require it as part of his job?

 

The letter:

Dear Steve,

Team building. How does it make you feel? I know, I know, it can feel forced and naff and awkward BUT it can also be a cool way to learn some crazy arse skills you wouldn’t dream of learning otherwise. Like semaphore flag signalling, for example. Or hula hooping. Or writing a rap song.

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A symbol of the passing of the digits

The letter request:

So, I adored my old phone number. I’d loved and cherished it since 2000. My number’s finest quality was that I could remember it. Yet I was also attached to the journey associated with it. So, I was forced to give up my cherished phone number in an untimely manner – circa mid 2010  – by the combined incompetencies of Telstra and Virgin. Now the phone number formerly known as mine, has a new owner.  From slow-drip accounts: a “young person”, “a girl, or a preadolescent teenage boy I guess”. I know this because I failed to uniformly tell anyone much about my change in number. If you were in my orbit at the time, you figured it out. But in the last few months reports have started to trickle in, as people who haven’t called me in the last year and a half try to pin me down.

 

The letter:

Hi! Is that Amanda?

Jokes, jokes, I know you’re not Amanda. I’m Amanda.

But I’ve called 0414 xxx 051, right?

Jokes, jokes, this is a letter not a phone call. I’m not crazy. I thought I’d write, rather than call, because I know you’re up to here with people calling you and asking for Amanda, so please let me explain.

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Climb on board my narrowboat

The letter request:

Please could you pen a moderately flirtatious email to the head of Amazon.com? I run a small independent bookshop in England on a converted narrowboat called The Book Barge. Amazon.com is putting me out of business. I would like you to suggest we recreate the plot of ‘You’ve Got Mail’, but without my shop having to close. I don’t mind having to kiss him at the end, but I’d like some sort of watertight guarantee that he is going to pump lots of money my way so I can continue selling books. Possibly he could also buy me a yacht so I can transfer from the UK canals to the Med.

 

The letter:

Dear Jeff Bezos, founder, president and CEO of Amazon.com,

Are you a fan of Meg Ryan? It’s okay if you’re not. She sells a certain type of cute that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. What about romantic comedies in general? I’m not talking Aniston or Heigl, god help us all, I’m talking the classics, like The Shop Around The Corner. It’s a 1940s film that sees two warring shop assistants ‘unexpectedly’ fall in love with each other as anonymous pen pals. Whacky, huh? Your local video shop will probably have it.

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Crack whore Stacey

The letter request:

Could you write a letter that, in the nicest way possible, will convince my partner to ship our little family back to Melbourne or at least somewhere with trees… 

 

The letter:

Dear Stevie,

I have a lot of time for Carole King. And ‘Where You Lead’ would have to be my absolute favourite of her songs. I tell you love, when she sings, I would go to the ends of the earth cause, darling, to me that’s you’re worth I get all jittery because that is exactly how I feel about you. I would go anywhere for you.

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I’d be played by Rachel Bilson

The letter request:

Ok – truth be told, he is pretty much everything I’d ever want in a bloke and I relish every second we’re together! The problem? He hasn’t got a clue. He loves spending time with me, no doubt, but the thought of ‘him and me’ is well beyond his thinking, I’m sure. I’m the mate he trust and talks to about the other women in his life; not the other way around. The letter I want to write isn’t exactly a head-over-feet love confession, but certainly a message that any girl would be so so blessed to have him.

 

The letter:

Dear Charlie,

As the female in this friendship I have three primary obligations. One, to introduce you to my hot girlfriends. Two, to tease you when the women in your life suddenly realise you are the love of their life and fall at your feet. And three, to warn you when your life is dangerously close to becoming a romantic comedy.

Consider yourself warned.

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I felt your hiccups

The letter request:

Nothing can compare to the love and joy I already feel for my unborn nephew. Since receiving the first announcement of his existence (a texted photo of the positive pregnancy test) I have treasured every minute of his progress. From copies of each set of ultrasound photos plastered all over my fridge (much to the despair of my new housemate), to attending an anti natal class with his mum, to feeling his little hiccups, I have been there all the way. I can’t wait to meet this cheeky little monkey and watching him grow into a very special person. 

 

The letter:

My dear Little Peanut,

You probably think it’s not possible to fall in love with somebody you’ve never met but I’m sorry to say you are wrong. Don’t feel bad – having just been born, there’s a whole heap of stuff you’re yet to learn. That’s where I come in, you see; I’m here to teach you.

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Be cautious of free-roaming animals

The letter request:

I’m really glad that my friend has fallen in love and is moving to the side of the world but I just want to make sure her new beau realises that we’ve still got her back and we’re fierce over here

 

The letter:

Dear Max,

On behalf of Lucy’s homeland, I just want to tell you how excited we are that you and Lucy are about to build a life together. You are the luckiest man in the world because Lucy is an absolute catch. As I’m sure you already know she is gorgeous, super smart, fun, a true friend, a fabulous cook, always up for frivolity and an expert in all things Lego.

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