Truthfully, when some dudes from Minnesota who write a law firm marketing advice blog emailed me and told me they bought Bitter Lawyer and wanted me to come back, I thought it was a prank. I was like umm “have you actually read my column—not too much practical advice for the upstanding lawyer.” But I was intrigued (they offered me money), so I emailed them back.
They insisted people wanna know what Matthew Richardson has been doing and they forwarded me some emails from adoring fans and some hate mail from people who wish I caught syphilis and died. Sorry fellas, syphilis is easily curable these days…or so I’ve heard. I respect all you hard working saps who have lived vicariously through my lecherous behavior and I would love to let you keep doing that. I mean, who wouldn’t? But there’s just one problem. I’m not that guy any more.
When Bitter Lawyer disappeared, it hit me hard. I had gotten to the point where I was acting like a scumbag just so I could share those stories. Once my outlet disappeared, I started thinking maybe there was no point in being an asshole!
I looked myself right in the mirror and said, “Matthew, they’ve moved on. You have to do the same. Move on, mature…grow up!” No more womanizing, drinking, doing blow, treating the firm tab like my personal piggybank. So I resolved to straighten out. I spend the last year making amends with colleagues that I had screwed over and started rehabilitating my image at the firm. I started really working my ass off for once in my life. I even stayed in on the weekends. I started being kind to my underlings—I mean—assistants and lowly 1st years. Believe it or not, I even got a relatively stellar review. On a personal level, I stopped banging pigs and whores and I got back together with my on-again, off-again girlfriend. I realized I should cherish anyone that could tolerate my boorish behavior. So I took the plunge, I took her to Paris where I proposed marriage beneath the Eiffel tower. I am now looking forward to our destination wedding in Santa Barbara next year.
And if you believed anything I just said, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Seriously, it’s been the same old shit for me. Pulling the same old shennanigans since those bitches at Bitter Lawyer packed their tents. I will say it has gotten a lot harder because people are getting moved down in BigLaw like soldiers getting off those little boats at the beginning of Saving Private Ryan. You’re probably thinking “how did Richardson survive?” Come on, you guys know me better than that. I’m a survivor, a cockroach. Although, I must admit, I did cut back a little bit. Like for example, one of my favorite pastimes: the old afternoon double feature has been cut down to an afternoon feature. And I rarely ever hit up the firm tab for drinks anymore…granted summer is around the corner, so that may just be a product of circumstance. When it comes to women, I’m still a single lawyer who wishes he was a banker but thanks god he’s not an accountant—or worse, a teacher. I’m still getting my fair share of poon and I’ve got plenty of stories stockpiled for you guys since we last spoke.
So, since this is my first column back, I figured I would just shake off the rust, crack open a bottle of Johnny Black that I have stashed in my office and say hello.
Even though this site may be under new management, nothing has changed between you guys and me. I promise to be the same unethical and amoral cretin that I’ve always been. And you promise to be whatever it is that you are.
