Let us be introduced...

Hello dear reader,

So let’s get this out of the way. I’m Gretchen Rutte and this is my playtime. Better we start off on the right foot than for you to make any unhealthy assumptions.

An introduction is the logical place to outline the terms of agreement of the pact we make, as writer and reader, and provide some context. Begin:

I. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because I’ve exhausted other avenues. Past attempts to subvert my reflexes have ended in miniature mock tragedies.

II. You don’t have to like it or me. I’ve got an itch and I’m scratching it. If you’re looking for a cure for your own particular brand of emotional leprosy: good luck and move it along. I can’t help you intentionally.

III. I’m not disadvantaged in any way. I’m a white woman in her mid-thirties who is above average in looks, health, intelligence and (surprisingly) income as of this year. This is not a born-with-a-harelip-but-finds-love inspirational story. (I wore pastel glasses when I was a kid, but within six months of contact lenses lost my virginity in a spectacular way. Moral: myopia is not a hard-luck story, but a form of birth control.)

IV. I promise not to make excuses for my above-averageness at a later date, like invent more interesting moral failings or psychopathic tendencies. All I’m looking to do is to tell you a story.

This introduction would not be complete without sharing the catalyst for this experiment. Brace yourself for something truly original: I broke up with my boyfriend. After nine years, I got worn out trying to raise him. Now am questioning judgment, taste and general sanity. I see Oprah on her couch, visibly horrified through the mortar of make-up: What were you thinking?!

Here is my answer. It was penance for all the things I’ve done, or caused to happen with my thoughts, or allowed to happen out of general negligence. You see, I’m the one to blame for it all. I’m the original global warming, the one and only Krakatoa, the Deathstar, the 9th plane of Hell. The world revolves around me and I…can’t…generate…enough…heat...My apologies. It’s all on me, black holes and earth-naveling meteors and diarrheic volcanic eruptions, spewing ash and poison and choking out life across the earth. I am anti-matter, Sodom & Gomorrah and Ygdrassil and Grendel and Erin the Goddess of Destruction. Loki, the joker who ends up destroying the world by accident. Don’t slap your dog or swear at the old people driving: it’s me you want.

V. Final notes on the pact. I promise to edit, I promise to check my spelling, I promise to stay away from fancy punctuation as much as possible (I have an excessive fondness for semi-colons).

Above all, I promise to be truthful. At least about the important stuff. At times, I shall be nasty or dirty. Please note: I am not interested if this offends you; I have no patience for those of you who cultivate moral outrage. Stop reading and go watch Corner Gas. In other words, fuck off.

For the rest of you, I hope you noticed I just threw down a semi-colon.

-Gretch