Dear Dutch taxpayer

Dear Dutch taxpayer,

I must confess that I used some of your money. You see, I went to Macedonia for nine months to work as a volunteer, and well ... you basically paid for the whole thing. I just felt I had to tell you this. For the sake of openness. Of course it would have been better if I had asked you in advance, but then you would have said no and I wouldn’t have liked that.
So now the only thing I can do is to tell you what I did with your money. As a sort of lumbsumb construction. Or however the people of the numbers might call it.

I am now back in the Netherlands in my old room, working the same job I had before I left. So in that sense not a lot of things changed. I can tell you about the tolerance I gained during these nine months. How I experienced that all the people are in their core more or less the same, even though their cultures are very different. But I know that this is the kind of Eurohugging hippycrap you got sick and tired of a long time ago. So on the surface it looks like I just went in a circle. Did some nice things, developed myself a bit to eventually come home with more of a tan than anybody in the Netherlands. And some nice stories about dark people being lazy.
‘That is just perfect,’ I can hear you think. ‘This guy has a free holiday on my expense while I had to spend a rainy summer, not watching my thousand inch plasma TV I needed so much.’
You are partly right about that, but I didn’t tell you everything. See, during my stay there I found the love of my life. A magnificent woman with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. And that is in your interest as well, dear Dutch taxpayer. I will explain this to you.

All my life I have been somebody who basically didn’t give a shit about material things or building towards a secure future. As a result I hopped from job to job. Always earning just enough to support myself. As you can imagine I didn’t pay much taxes with such low incomes. Not for your asphalt on which you can spend hour long traffic jams, not for the extra care your ADHD son requires, and neither for the pension you have been looking forward to so much.

But now all of this is going to change. See, I want to build a future with the girl I met. And to build towards a future I need a steady income and therefore a steady job. And through that I will ... that is right, be paying taxes for your beloved pension and asphalt.
‘That sounds great,’ you must be thinking. ‘But couldn’t you find a nice woman to build a future with, in the coffeeshop or cheesemarket, like normal people do?’
Well, I have a clear answer to that question. ‘No!’
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Dutch women. Having checklists of demands containing career status and ambitions, and demanding complete denial of masculinity to achieve a form of dickless equality are great virtues for any woman. It is just that I have kind of high standards. I am like that weird nephew to whom you shake your head every once in a while saying: ‘ can’t you ever just do things the easy way?’ Or the village eccentric with his long hair and everlasting hole in the sleeves of his blazer. We are the kind of people who never settle for less. We are wanderers, searching till we find that one thing that is worth committing to. Nothing less!
The same goes for love. For me the only love worth living for is the one with the ultimate connection. A love that inspires me, makes me grow beyond myself, and that makes me see the world with new eyes every day. And sometimes a thing like that is pretty hard to find in the geographical limitations of our small country.
Some never find it. They are doomed to live a life of wandering, drinking Schultenbrauer beer from your tax money! But don’t worry my dear taxpayer. I have found it! At the other end of Europe, but still... That is what your money did for me. That is what your money did for you!
So thank you for that.

But... I am very sorry to bring this up now. I haven’t been completely honest with you. See, I didn’t write this letter just to justify myself.
Here is the thing, with this letter I will also compete in a contest with price money up to 800 euro. A price I would really like to win so I can take the love of my life on a holiday. Again paid by you, I am afraid.
But you don’t mind do you? I mean, it is a small price to pay for having someone who, for the rest of his life, will pay your pension with a big smile on his face.