Being Good Doesn’t Mean Being Used

I've recently been wondering why people can't help others without expecting something in return. Today, I want to share a story that happened to me not long ago. This situation isn’t unique, but it’s the most recent example highlighting why I deeply dislike asking for help.

Do you remember the guy from Mexico who also crossed the border and once helped me by storing my things when I was left without housing? We hadn't spoken in months, and then suddenly he called me, saying he needed my help. I asked him what was going on, and he explained he wanted assistance transferring a car loan into his name. Knowing I have a good credit score, thanks to my car and credit cards, he subtly reminded me of the time he helped with my belongings, conveniently bringing up the past favor.

To begin with, he isn’t alone here; he has relatives nearby. Yet, he approached me, claiming his brother had poor credit. Although I've known this person for about a year and a half, he’s essentially a stranger to me. It might sound harsh, but it's true. A couple of days spent together and some intimacy months ago hardly translate into genuine closeness or the kind of relationship where you'd genuinely care.

I consider myself kind and gentle, even though it might sometimes seem otherwise. It took me years to learn to say "no" and to stop letting people take advantage of me or make decisions harmful to myself. I used to be too nice, unable to refuse any request. Eventually, I learned to always put myself first.

He couldn't clearly explain what exactly he needed over the phone. Initially, I assumed he wanted a guarantor and immediately declined—there was no way I'd take on such a responsibility. The last thing I needed was to end up paying his debt. No thanks! He then mentioned something vague about accessing my account, to which I also firmly said no. He insisted it wasn’t like that but couldn't explain clearly, suggesting his brother would clarify things. I asked him to send me more information so I could research it myself.

About half an hour later, his brother called me before I'd had a chance to read anything. He explained everything beautifully, presenting it as something trivial. The idea was that I'd add him as an "authorized user" on my credit account, giving him indirect access to my credit history without actually using my money, just to quickly build his credit score. He insisted it was an easy, harmless process.

Intuitively, I wanted to say no immediately, but because of my nature, I needed a concrete reason to refuse clearly. Otherwise, I knew I'd get asked, "Why?" And what could I say? Intuition? Knowing him, he'd hardly take that seriously, though intuition is something very significant to me. Without knowing anything concrete, I often just know the right answer—my intuition is incredibly strong.

After briefly researching, I initially didn't find anything alarming. However, looking deeper into potential drawbacks, I discovered and wrote him this: Even if I don't physically give him a card, an authorized user could theoretically gain account access—for example, by requesting a new card. Additionally, credit bureaus sometimes consider additional users as a risk factor, and banks might respond by lowering limits or trust levels. Moreover, adding someone solely to build their credit could violate bank policies, potentially leading to serious consequences like account closure.

This was more than enough to justify a firm "no," but I noticed dissatisfaction in his response.

I arrived in this country alone. I built my life from scratch without anyone’s help. I worked for an entire year to establish the credit history and score I currently have. Him storing my things briefly doesn't equate to the enormous favor he asked for. What he did required no risk from him, yet I was expected to risk an entire year’s effort for a complete stranger. Notably, this man has a brother, a wife, and a child here—details he conveniently omitted when we were in Mexico, where he acted as if he were single.

Initially, I felt guilty about refusing. But after analyzing it repeatedly, I realized I had every right to say no—I owed him nothing.

I tried recalling times I'd helped others. Did I ever later bring it up, demanding something in return? No, I helped and forgot about it.

Why have men today stopped being genuine men who help selflessly without expecting something back? Of course, I'm not generalizing; true men still exist somewhere on this planet. However, lately, I've faced numerous disappointments.

Ultimately, I blocked this man and his brother. I've quickly learned to cut off communication whenever something feels wrong, always trusting my intuition.

Additionally, two people I shared this story with suggested these guys might have intended to steal my money. After gaining access to my account, he could hypothetically spend all my money and disappear, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it because he wouldn't bear any responsibility, despite having full rights to spend the money. Reporting it to the police would have been futile since I would have willingly granted him account access myself.

Theoretically, it's entirely possible, but I'll never know for sure—which, of course, is for the best.