Dear Alcohol: We are through!

Dear Alcohol,

What happened to us? We used to be such great friends. I mean, you were the only one who was there for me during that awful break up to help take away the pain and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. We used to hang out five times a week, and no matter how much we were together there was never a point where it was too much. People claimed that you were bad for me but I didn’t care, you made me see the world in a new light (mostly neon), and sometimesin twos. I thank you for helping out during these dark times.

Though in retrospect, I am beginning to wonder what your true intentions are. While I want to believe that you are who I thought you were; my wingman, my counselor, my medicine, it is hard for me to over look these facts. We’re together for one night every few weeks, and in the morning when you are gone, I feel regret. You leave a bad taste in my mouth, and you make me sick with what I have done. Worse yet, sometimes I can’t remember anything about the night before at all. When you’re around, bad things happen. For Example:

Drunk-Dialing: I believe that all rational conversations take place before the hour of two A.M., but all phone etiquette escapes me when we’re together. You know as well as I that I do not need to send my latest ex an, “I miss you” text, but you persuade me to do so anyways. And the worse part is, you’re never around to play damage control the next day. I do not appreciate that.

‘Late-Night-Meals’: You know that by hanging out with you for a night I will consume more calories and carbohydrates than I probably eat all day, and yet we always seem to be fifth in line at Jack In the Box to get 21 tacos, two breakfast burritos, an extra large Coke and three orders of curly fries. My body can no longer handle this punishment.

Driving: I know that you do not have a driver’s license and that if we want to go somewhere together I have to drive, but it’s getting ridiculous. When we go somewhere it is not funny for you to grab the wheel and make me swerve. Cops do not find this amusing. In fact, they will probably put us in jail. You may be able to escape through a stainless steel bowl in the corner but I will be stuck there for the duration, and then by law we will not get to hang out.

Girls: When you are around me I have a tendency to find every girl attractive, or at least un-ugly. Usually when you leave I can see their flaws and ask why did you fix me up with this? Furthermore, as much as you might want to believe, we do not know her, we do not need to go talk to her, and lastly, that she does not want to sleep with us, especially when I am talking in your language of drunkenness. Please stop, you are not a good match-maker.

Inhibition: What it all comes down to is you have a way to block my inhibition, this has got to end. I try to respect everyone and I want people to respect me. But how will anyone respect me after I run around my back yard in whitey tighties performing that classic seen from Talladega Nights where Ricky Bobby thinks he is on fire?

Lastly Hangovers: I understand after a night together I might be a bit dehydrated and a headache may be in order. Nevertheless, the sleeping by the toilet, sacrificing you to the porcelain god, and dry heaving has to stop! I can’t afford you to keep me out of school, or work anymore, especially when you hang around till 6 P.M. and my whole day is shot.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our time together, we’ve had good times, we’ve had bad times and I would like for you to keep coming around. You’re the catalyst of many of my stories and you’ve given me countless hours of enjoyment. But in order for us to maintain our friendship I ask you to read this letter and address the grievances above and get back to me with a response before nine P.M. on Thursday. Maybe you and I can go out.


Jonathan Holland

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