I like to think I’m a fairly generous person. I always drunkenly give money to street musicians, regardless of how talented or untalented their performance is. Sometimes I do volunteer hours without humble bragging about it on Facebook. Just yesterday I lent my friend a tampon. These are the deeds that I pray outweigh my off-putting personality and chronic resting bitch face.
A fews days ago I was shamelessly stalking all the kids from my grade school who didn’t pursue higher education, purely in the hopes of making myself feel better about my current status. It didn’t work, as I discovered that my arch nemesis, a boy who was supposed to run into me present day and immediately fall in love with my post-orthodontic smile and clear(ish) skin, is now engaged to a girl who mildly resembles Jennifer Anniston circa 2002. Go figure.
Amidst my search, I was interrupted by a Facebook chat. It was from a friend of a friend of a friend, who I had met once or twice freshman year. I think maybe we took pulls from the same bottle of Sour Apple Burnett’s in the same fraternity bathroom one night. Point is, I really don’t know this girl whatsoever, and I can’t even fathom how we came to be Facebook friends. She sent a long message explaining how her cat had gotten hit by a car, ultimately providing me with a link and asking me to consider donating money to repair poor Bella’s broken legs. Because if there’s one person you can count on to pull through for your financial shortcomings, apparently it’s a total fucking stranger.
May I just ask, what is the deal with people expecting their friends to donate funds to Gofundmes for non-life or death situations? Why are we expected to dish out cash for something that has absolutely nothing to do with us? Growing up, my father would often dispel wisdom unto his blossoming children by lovingly telling us, “use your brain.” Now I’m saying the same thing to you, girl I haven’t talked to in three years whose last name I don’t know how to pronounce. Why the hell would I, a recent college grad who just signed away my soul to a Kia dealership, want to spend money on your pet? Isn’t that your job? Last time I checked, we don’t live in a utilitarian society. Take care of your own shit, and I’ll take care of mine.
I understand that pets are a big deal. My dog died in November, and it was one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. It marked my official initiation into adulthood, as I now live with a general sense of sadness knowing that everything and everyone will die. The whole week following my pal’s death was nothing but an emotional shitstorm, which I spent wallowing in bed and listening to Michael Bublé like a normal person. You didn’t see me begging my friends for euthanasia funds online, and you know why? Because that’s a hella awkward, and it’s mildly inappropriate for you to put people in that kind of situation.
Not to mention, when you buy a pet, you need to understand that you are financially responsible for all of the expenses that follow. If you’re going into a commitment like that without realizing that something catastrophic could very well happen to a defenseless, domesticated animal, you’re batshit crazy. Life is an even bigger bitch than I am, so you might want to gird your loins.
My absolute least favorite thing about these kinds of Gofundmes plastered all over my timeline is that, while obviously devastating for you, there are so many terrible things happening out there– to actual people. Climate change has temperatures at an all time high, there’s civil and social unrest within out country, overseas nations are under relentless attacks, and a man who inspired the hashtag #CheetoJesus could be our next President. So forgive me if I’m not placing your cat’s hip surgery particularly high up on my radar.
Gofundmes might be a godsend to some people, and I don’t mean to hate on that. But going out of your way to put that pressure on someone you barely know is just rude. This chick inadvertently gave me two options: to save face and donate the money, or be that asshole who says no. Luckily for me, I’m able to gift myself with an alternative option: totally ignore her message and bitch about how awkward I feel about the whole situation on the internet. I guess I’m able to appreciate the fact that this girl thinks I’m straight rolling in cash, but I’m going to pass on this incredibly unrewarding opportunity for now. I’m really more of a dog person anyway. .
Image via Shutterstock
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Lucky Jo
Lucky Jo is a former and current TSM writer who likes her men how she likes her coffee: way too hot and unforgivably bitter. She graduated from the University of Missouri in 2016, proving that C's do in fact get degrees. She now spends her days working for a social media marketing agency, hiking with her dachshund, and trying to bring back the scrunchie. Hate mail and goat memes can be sent to lucyjmulvihill@gmail.com.
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