Native Writes: A demanding relationship

I just discovered I am in a long-term relationship created online.

I receive up to 10 emails a day and can’t get them to go away.

It all began when I typed in something I saw on TV. People are becoming unbelievably wealthy and all it takes is one entry online.

That  sweepstakes will deliver what I have been unsuccessfully spending $2 a chance to win in the Colorado Lottery --  a set sum of money each day for life.

What I have received so far is a series of casino-style slot machine games, online scratch tickets and a search engine that I must immediately use or be eliminated. I also received a questionable check for $10 which I didn’t cash.

If I spend $2 for “Lucky for Life” in the Colorado Lottery, I may not win, but no one will contact me demanding that I comply with other conditions in order to continue.

It all began just before Christmas when I decided to take a chance. If money had been involved, I would have thought twice, maybe three times, before entering, but it was advertised as being free of cost.

Bet me! Each day, I receive offers that involve “free gifts.” I did accept a gift of free coffee and didn’t like it, but was told I had entered a “membership” and would be sent more designer coffee to the tune of about $80 per month, charged to my credit card with no further problems. I replied I didn’t want the coffee and told my card not to pay. The card company wanted proof that I hadn’t signed any agreement and had advised the card issuer of the same.

The next message was from the coffee people telling me there was something wrong with my card and threatening me with legal action if I didn’t send info about another card or, at least, the last four digits of my social security number.

I had saved all the messages between me and them and emailed then to the credit card issuer, which told me they had paid “$88” for a coffee shipment.

It took a while, but I got a refund. I also learned that entering my credit card number to receive the “gift” was genuinely stupid.

The online relationship was unfazed. At least three times a day, I am told to enter my winning numbers, which I don’t have, or I will be eliminated from the big drawing. I am ordered to complete a lottery ticket to stay on board.

I receive small offers disguised as “games” that offer instant monetary awards. Names of the “winners” are listed at the bottom of the screen and no one’s from Colorado.

A map with the Alamosa zip code circled in red says someone in the city will soon win big. I could be the big winner if I immediately searched for something using the attached search engine. I entered “Eat Dirt” and was told that Ms. Dirt had been located and that info could be revealed for a small fee.

A serious inquiry about the location of the early Mormon settlement, “Ephraim,” advised me that he had been found and I could see his criminal record for a small fee.

The latest missive was a game of KENO and I was told that the prize crew was amazed that, with all the riches to be won, I didn’t spend the entire day playing the games.

I determined the big winner will be the 400-pound pimply kid sitting on his bed that Donald Trump thinks might be hacking government accounts on Russia’s behalf.

A word to the wise: Publisher’s Clearing House should be cited for harassment. I have better things to do than search for things and play casino games.

My long-term relationship is giving birth to its own end.