The Truth About NATLFED

December 10, 2017

You doxied me?

Filed under: Cult,NATLFED,Politics,Uncategorized — ghostwriter1984 @ 12:09

Every now and again, I receive an e-mail from someone I knew long ago in a cult far, far away.  It’s usually kind of like hi, how are you doing, good to see you’re nuts/fine/okay, etc.  Sometimes it’s angry, bitter, cold, hostile — how dare I post this dribble on the net, I’m a pathological liar, I’m reinventing history.  I received a curious correspondence from a person that I’ve never heard of, and rather assumed after my response that would be the end of the matter.  The person proved most persistent.

This woman is on a mission of getting into heaven.  She is atoning for her sins, going way back to childhood, not too worried about the ‘accidentally on purpose’ causing someone to scrap a knee, but more concerned about the serious and egregious things she had done in her youth.  She is proud that she found Jesus.

I didn’t know Jesus was lost — ba-DUMB-t’ass.

She wants me to forgive her for what she did to me.  I kind of scratched my head, thought about growing up in desperate poverty, vicious abuse, and losing out on many opportunities.  I only had a name but quite frankly it didn’t ring any bells.  I wanted to be friendly instead of snarky but this woman insisted she was once one of my best friends until she completely and totally ruined my life.  Pray do tell more!  At that instant, I knew someone was trolling or seriously deluded.

I decided what the hell and go along with it for a while.  After all, I’ve had former cultists as well as some of their family members make some interesting claims (the one about being a ten-year old girl seducing someone’s brother into joining the cult, yes, that kind of perverted claim that pedophiles like to insist upon).  Maybe this woman was using a married name, divorced name, whatever.  In the meantime, I’ve started hunting down a copy of my old yearbook.  In the number of moves, it became lost along the way.

The incident that ruined my life, apparently, was this woman’s claim it was her fault I was accused of cheating on the SAT.  Well, that was true.  I remember that day taking the test along with three hundred or so other classmates.  Every administrator was parading about the gym where the chairs with the one arm desk platforms were lined up in neat rows and sections.  It was very cold.  I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt.  I remember the embarrassment when the principal walked up to me, grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt, and hauled me out of the gym.

This woman had my attention.  I responded that it was true, I was accused of cheating on the SAT.  I asked her how it was her fault.  After all, I suppose it could have been like the pseudoscience fake mind readers and psychics who use the cold method before honing in on a victim in an audience.  Someone with a name starting with J is trying to contact, some with a first name that starts with the letter M, and then an A.  We’ve all seen that scam.

She said she was the one that balled up the index card and threw it at me so she wouldn’t get caught.  Okay, definitely getting my attention, because the principal did find a wadded up index card near the hood of my sweatshirt.  I suppose if I had shorter hair, whoever had thrown it would have scored three points.  That was a little too creepy knowing about the hooded sweatshirt and the crumpled up index card.  It brought back a lot of bad memories.

Cheating on the SAT is a serious offense in high school.  Back in the days, it was an important test that, if scored well enough, could open doors for scholarships.  I studied very hard for the test, wanting to do the best.  I never got to finish, nor did I get to retake the test.  Someone had meticulously written on the card a series of answers in the tiniest print imaginable.  Some of the punishment was immediate.  I was kicked out of the honor society.  My schedule was changed, moving me into lower classes (regular English instead of honors English).  I was pulled out of several elective classes.  I had enough to graduate but even that was under scrutiny.  Without the SAT, all sorts of scholarship offers disappeared.

I’ve been trying to remember how long it took for the investigation into the matter to take.  I was thinking like a month, maybe two.  While the principal eventually conceded that the handwriting on the card was not mine, just the fact that I had it was damning.  The answers on that card were spot on correct.  It wasn’t the complete test answers.  No, I suppose that would have been a miracle.  My answers were mostly correct.  They decided I was smart enough to know that a perfect score would have been too suspicious.

I never understood why the entire test was not invalidated.  After all, they did say that someone else must have been involved and they wanted me to give up the names.  How could I give them something I didn’t have?  The only reason I wasn’t expelled was because my father threatened and eventually began legal proceedings against the school.  He may have been a mostly absent parent, but that was one of the rare times that he came through for me.  The rest of the school year, I suffered silently.  Yes, I graduated, but I was not allowed to walk on stage to get my diploma.

That was a very long time ago.

I was angry at being reminded of such things.  However, I did not trust the contact by a person claiming she was the one who threw the balled up card at me.  She said she panicked.  She said she was one of my best friends.  She felt bad for distancing herself from me, pretty much like everyone else did.  I only had one friend who believed me.  Most of my siblings saw it as another way to torment me.  At the time, I was aware of most of the half-brothers and sisters in my strange family.  My father married four times and God only knows how many he had on the side.  I think it was sixteen or seventeen brothers and sisters (currently it’s up to twenty-two known).

It was her claim that she was my best friend that didn’t sit well with me.  I had no idea who the hell she was.  Now, I’m not going to come up with a deus ex machina and say I miraculously obtained another copy of my high school yearbook.  Those are pretty much lost in time.  The school might have one on display or on a shelf somewhere, but they don’t have any for sale (original or reproductions).  No one has ever bothered organizing a class reunion just for our graduating class.  They’ve done reunions for several classes at once.  It’s simply too small of a school and too much lack of interest from alumni to warrant the effort.  After what happened to me, I’m certainly not going to invest money to fly three thousand miles.

I told her I still did not know her.  I was unable to forgive her as long as she maintained that I was her best friend.  You see, she wants forgiveness.  Maybe she was the one who threw the crumpled card.  That, I could forgive.  Doing so under a false pretense of once being friends?  Yeah, nice try.  I didn’t hear back from her for a couple of weeks.  When she did resume contact, she had more ‘proof’ that we knew each other.  She included an old photo, kind of blurry, probably scanned I guess (I don’t know).  It was the night of a band concert and I was supposedly one of the oboists.  Maybe there was some likeness but I wasn’t in the band nor did I ever play the oboe.  It was still creepy because I always did want to play the oboe but couldn’t afford lessons.

After I told her I was not in the band, I thought that was the end of it.  It took a few days, but she resumed contact.  I realized she was still cold reading the situation.  She claimed she sent the wrong photo.  She had a different photo, another grainy reproduction, of a high school play.  Yeah, after what happened with the SAT, even if I did want to be in the play, I certainly wasn’t allowed.  I was kicked out of everything extracurricular.  Okay, another miss in the cold reading.  The pros know to move on.

It didn’t take long for the next photo to arrive, and this one was digitally cleaned up (I’m guessing).  Before my fall from grace, I was the one delegated from a school club to present a scroll to the school board in appreciation of them opting to continue offering some language classes as electives.  They eliminated German and Russian (I think also Norwegian or some other like it) but kept the major Romance languages.  Clearly, this person was honing in.

Well, okay, you made a hit.  It’s an impressive feat considering how long ago these events occurred and how little is on the internet.  Even I can’t find that old photo on the school site.  It may have been in the yearbook.  It made me wonder why this woman was selecting me out of three hundred or so classmates for this particular contact.  I was convinced it was a scam, an elaborate hoax, or just someone completely off her rocker.  If the contact had initiated through this blog, I would have chalked it up to one of the apologists just screwing with me.

Now you’re probably wondering how did this woman initiate contact.  It came in the strangest way.  Not Facebook or any mainstream social media.  It came through a creative writing website.  Yes, a bizarre platform to initiate such a strange contact.  And of course my error was not unchecking a box that said publish my e-mail address.  The first couple of contacts came through messages on that site but eventually started coming to my personal e-mail.  The box has since been unchecked, in case you’re thinking of doing a doxie.

It remains unanswered her real motives.  I found it peculiar that someone on a relatively specific and kind of maybe popular but didn’t make the top ten writing platforms just coincidentally happened to be a person sitting behind me at the SAT exam.  I don’t know what this person has to gain with such a ruse.  She wasn’t aware that I was once involved in a cult, or maybe she’s waiting to spring that on me if she chooses to continue with the charade.

If she wants forgiveness for ruining my life by throwing that crumpled up card at me, I would gladly give it.  I can’t do anything to change the past.  Yet I can’t give it because she said she was my best friend and I have no idea who the hell she is.  I tried searching the internet.  It was one of those common names that generates thousands of hits in general.  In my old stomping grounds, it generated probably a fair number of hits.  As I honed in closer, I did find someone with that name who was in the graduating class.

This is where I get really bitter.  That person did go to college and graduated not with high honors but still that’s better than no college.  She worked in retail for a while, married well, had a family, grandchildren, lived a relatively comfortable life, takes cruises as vacations, once traveled Europe, even entered local politics as a minor city official.  If she was the one who threw that card at me, it was unfair for me.  She led a charmed life, it seemed.  I guess I did feel a little jealous until I remembered that someone was scamming me for something.

What did this person have to gain?  She is born again and needs forgiveness from those she wronged during her life.  She said she wronged me and most needed my forgiveness.  I didn’t know this person.  She was never a friend of mine.  She wasn’t in any of my classes that I can remember, either before or after the fall.  It was over thirty years ago, so maybe my memory is faulty.  Sorry, doll face, but even if we did know each other, I can’t forgive you.  You’ll have to settle knowing you tried, and that meets acceptance within your born again religion.  We were not best friends like you claimed.  I didn’t run in the cliques.  I was not quite a loner, just a small circle of friends, and I lost those except one.

I haven’t heard back from her.  Maybe she’s reconsidering her contact, or maybe she’s just moving on to someone more gullible.  I don’t know, nor do I particularly care.  There are those on the internet who take delight in anonymously screwing around with people because they’re losers and it’s the only time they come out on top.  I’ll never know if she really is who she claims to be.  I’m not going to start a chain reaction of contacting someone from over thirty years ago asking if it’s really her.

This may sound irrelevant to the cult discussions, but it does offer certain opportunities to show that anyone with enough information can attempt manipulating a person into believing certain things.  Manipulative behavior is not exclusive to cults.  I almost thought about not including my secret desire to play the oboe as a kid.  I figure, what’s the harm.  It never happened and isn’t going to ever happen.  If someone wants to taunt and torment me with it, well, go for it.  I lost interest a long time ago.

Lesson learned.  The letter J is contacting the letters MA.

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