Before it was an act of kindness. Now it’s a fucking mission.

So a month or so ago I got this comment on my blog from a girl I called Lost.

And then I wrote this post.

And then dozens and dozens of readers offered their support.

And then Lost and I started texting and emailing and messaging every day.

She’s half my age, but we are very similar.

I felt connected to her. I understood.

She told me everything.

All the dirty details.

Everything.

We became friends.

The more we talked, the more we had in common.

And then I set up a Go Fund Me campaign for her. To help her out. To give her fresh start.

I hadn’t ever met Lost. Who let me share her name on the blog.

Patty.

And then, a couple days ago, I got a Facebook message.

It was from her dad.

He was kind of wondering who the hell this chick in CT was.

I don’t blame him.

He wasn’t sure if I was on the up and up or not.

Then I got another message on my personal Facebook page.

Basically claiming Patty was a liar.

Then I got another message.

This time on the blog Facebook page.

Again.

Calling Patty a liar.

I had a hard time sleeping last night.

When I was in high school, I wasn’t exactly a girl scout.

Not by the time I was a junior, anyway.

Neither were all my friends.

We would go to parties and drink and smoke cigarettes.

And other things.

And whenever I could, on those nights, I would sleep over at a friend’s house.

Because my friends’ parents were usually asleep when we got home.

And if they were awake, they never seemed to notice or even ask about our appearance or the fact that we smelled like booze and smoke.

My mom was a different story.

She fucking noticed everything.

Everything.

She was like a drug sniffing dog.

You could not sneak anything past her.

And she was always awake when I got home.

She knew a lie and a story and a bunch of bullshit when she saw it.

And I have always prided myself on being the same way.

My bullshit radar is pretty good.

So what the fuck was up with these messages?

Had Patty fucking scammed me?

Had I been bamboozled?

Had my gut betrayed me?

I didn’t know what to do.

I spent all day worrying.

And then tonight, I called her dad.

I nervously babbled on about who I was and what my intentions were and what had transpired over the past 24 hours, and that I was now questioning my gut.

Which was usually right.

And after talking to Patty’s dad, I learned that…

I was right.

Patty had been nothing but honest with me.

Her dad is a good man.

An honest guy.

And I told him that I might give him a call every now and again to check in and that one day I hoped to meet him and his wife.

Exhale.

My gut.

It still hadn’t failed me.

Nice try, Facebook messengers.

So then I had to do one more thing.

In all this time, I still hadn’t actually spoken to Patty.

I texted her.

Can I actually call you? And talk in person?

Two seconds later, the phone rang. It was Patty. And I finally heard her actual voice.

Sweet and soft and southern.

I told her what had transpired in the past 24 hours.

And then I apologized for doubting her. For questioning whether or not she had told me the truth.

She has been nothing but 100% honest.

And so if any of you out there are doubting anything that Patty has said, please know that she is the real deal.

If any of you are hesitant to donate to her Go Fund Me campaign, please don’t hesitate anymore.

Please donate.

Now, I’m begging.

Please.

This is a girl with a ton of unrealized potential.

She is capable of good things.

Great things.

I know.

Because my gut tells me.

And my gut hasn’t been wrong yet.

Today’s post is sponsored by Olive & Lucy of Oscawana Lake

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