To The 17 Year Old Who Got Cut Off In The Guardian

I read your uncle’s letter to you the other day — the one he addresses ‘my dear godson’, before calling you stupid and selfish; in which he says he doesn’t want to demean your parents for not being middle class enough, but still does; where he admits he’s ‘a difficult person at the best of times’, then cuts you off for not being sufficiently adoring. I thought of writing a direct response, but decided I should drop you a line instead.

I don’t know you, your name or who you are except a male seventeen year old, so I desperately hope I’m not patronising you. There’s every chance you couldn’t care less what your uncle wrote and are glad to be rid of him: I cut ties publicly with a relative of mine who, like him, felt I owed her a relationship no matter what she did, and ignored every private request she leave me alone, so maybe you’re just relieved he caught on and is no longer in your way, albeit making out he dumped you first.

Then again, maybe you are upset — I might have been if I’d been turned down by a university I’d applied to, then disowned in a newspaper by someone whose response, instead of looking out for me, was to pressure me to spend time with them. Since you heard back in late November, your uncle got in on his second try, and he claims the arcane knowhow required to win a place, I’m guessing this is the same university I left two years ago. I’ve encountered people like him there and elsewhere — so on the off chance you are a bit blue, a quick note of encouragement.

To quote one Twitter user who spoke for the crowd, your uncle sounds like a pompous, arrogant shit; he also sounds abusive. It wasn’t enough that you were always polite to him — you had to be warm too; it wasn’t enough to answer his texts — you had to answer them immediately, and not, shock horror, the next day; it wasn’t enough that you thanked him for his cheques — you had to pay him back by being however affectionate he liked. This is possessive, entitled behaviour, and you didn’t deserve it. Your uncle claims he couldn’t do the ‘fake relationship dance’, but he wanted you to.

Did you actually want those cheques? I wonder if, much like my gran, he thought he could buy a relationship with you, then got angry when one wasn’t for sale. Perhaps you messaged him less than he wished because at sixteen and then seventeen, you were taking care of more pressing things — exams, driving lessons, UCAS — but he felt he deserved to be prioritised.

If your uncle was actually being generous, he would have been happy to help you out without wanting anything in return. If he’d offered you assistance out of real concern, he’d have been happy you didn’t need it. If he’d wanted to support you when his university turned you down, he’d have found out how you felt about it and taken his own cues from there, not seen it as a chance to thrust his influence on you. These were the actions of a self-absorbed narcissist, not someone who cared about you.

Having committed the folly of studying English, I’ve been self-unemployed most of the last two years, earning half what I would on the minimum wage: this Oxford graduate thinks your dad’s steady council job is nothing to sniff at. Perhaps your uncle’s right to guess your parents resented his going to university, or perhaps the snobbery came from him — and perhaps their lukewarm feelings, and indeed yours, had less to do with class than with him being a bully. I don’t know your family history, but I do know one thing: in our personal lives, none of us are obliged to spend time with anybody we don’t want to, or put effort into relationships we don’t enjoy.

Here’s the favour your uncle’s actually done you: he’s put the person he is on display. When anyone asks why the two of you weren’t close, why you weren’t keen to socialise with him, or why you no longer know each other, you have public evidence of how he behaved. Judging by the reception his note’s had, it’s unlikely you’ll be informed you should have been kinder — and if other people never witnessed this side of him, you now have proof.

Like everyone now hearing back from universities, you’ve got a trying year ahead, but by the sound of it, you’ll have one less unreasonable and unhelpful person in your way. If you decide you want to have your say, email the editors who published your uncle’s note and tell them his name — judging by how their decision to print it’s been received, I’m sure they’d be only too glad to publish you response.

Maybe, though, you feel like moving on — and good for you. If you possessed the strength of will to deal with a manipulator, it will serve you well in whatever you do now, whether work, university or a second shot at the place that turned you down. If you do want advice about re-applying, including to anywhere specific, plenty of well informed people online, including me, will be only too glad to help, and won’t demand anything in return — and if you don’t knock on our door, more power to you.

Good luck, and kudos for surviving a bully.