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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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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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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What if…or if only…

Dear Potahter,

‘Counterfactual thinking’ is the human tendency to ponder what if… or if only…

For example, someone might think to herself ‘If only I’d made a speech at my sister’s 21st, she would know exactly how awesome I think she is.’

Or, ‘What if I’d had the foresight to go to Toastmasters every week for a year leading up to Potahter’s 21st birthday and I suddenly loved the spotlight so much that I not only did a speech, but also an interpretative dance to demonstrate how much fun we’ve had together over the years?’

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You HAD a bird called Drazic

The letter request:

I recently house sat for a friend and of course my cat came to stay too. The only problem is that my friend who I was house sitting for had a bird, and one day when I left the birds cage open my cat somehow managed to catch the bird whilst I was out of the room. My friend is going to be distraught when she finds out, and I thought it would ease the blow if I could give her an apology letter from my cat upon her return. Can you help me out?

 

The letter:

Dear Allee,

Let’s talk about what a great friend Sophie is to you. As her cat, I know I’m biased but all the same she IS pretty ace. Remember how you guys used to love watching Puberty Blues? Or how you went to Turkey together? Or what about the time you both stalked that boy? CLASSIC! So many happy memories of that ilk. SO MANY.

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Girls far and wide

The letter request:

Can you write a letter to all the girls out there who missed out on meeting my husband before I did and then I’ll give it to him as a love letter?

 

The letter:

Dear Girls Far and Wide,

This letter is one of commiseration and is in no way intended to be a declaration of triumph. I write because I genuinely feel for you. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because my heart aches for the girls of Australia. The girls of Canada. The girls of France. Indonesia. All of South East Asia. The girls of every single country that has at some point hosted Jonathan. Girls who could have sat next to him on a bus, got chatting, exchanged numbers, one thing leading to another… Girls who could have been his best mate’s pretty cousin for whom he had the hots. Girls who could have worked in the same office as him and pashed him in the photocopy room at the Christmas party.

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