You must be surprised to hear from me. I know it’s been a while…and I did leave you with no explanation really.
You may not care much for this letter, but please hear me out.
Firstly, I need to apologize. I realize now that my use of the hashtag #iblamewhiskey must have been very hurtful to you. Also the fact that even after our awesome Friday nights together, by Saturday morning I couldn’t even stand the sight of you.
I want you to know, that last summer with you, was one of my best. You added so much to my life. Remember all the rad time we had together? Playing moving fooseball, swimming at midnight…dancing like we didn’t know I was a white girl. You, me, and our good mates Lime & Soda…ahhh…good times.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe we were just too good together. I wasn’t ready for the kind of commitment and dedication you deserve. You deserve a Connoisseur… I was just a Binge Drinker.
You brought out the best in me, Whiskey. After just a couple of minutes with you, I’m that much funnier. Half an hour later, and I’m prettier too. Everyone around thinks so. I’m funny and pretty and half way through the night, I’m a flipping good dancer too! Why am I not a professional? A Pussycat Doll, even? The Lead Pussycat Doll! By the end of the evening I’m a comedian/model/professional dancer. Also a millionaire! Buying shooters like P. Diddy. Everyone one in the bar (those still around) loves me! And I don’t even notice the blisters my 6 inch heels are inflicting as I throw my sexy booty all over the dance floor like a tornado of desire.
That’s what I love about you! You make me, a better me. The problem is, when things are bad, they’re real bad. I’m talking about The Morning After.
The Morning After was never good with you. You left me feeling weak, and shivery all over. Too hot and too cold. I didn’t want to bring this up, but as good as you made me feel the night before, The Next Morning you made me feel so damn ugly!
My skin, so pasty and dry. The smell of my hair, enough to give a small to medium toddler lung cancer. My feet, a mess of blisters and other injuries caused by walking barefoot through the streets of Greenside. My pockets, empty.
You left a thirst in me, and no matter how much water I threw at myself, I couldn’t keep the cotton wool on my tongue from sticking to the velcro on my palate.
I don’t even want to talk about the headaches. All I’ll say, is that having brain surgery while still conscious probably comes close to the pain I felt in my general head area after a night with you.
The feeling of being the prettiest girl in the room -the whole wide room- was always, inevitably shattered by the pictures that would surface on Facebook. You embarrassed me. You had me believe I could be a part-time model. Eventually I started to doubt my own funniness. Was I even a good dancer?! You knocked my confidence…you embarrassed me.
Eventually, these things started to take their toll. That’s when I started hanging out more with…you know…Tequila.
It’s the way he made me feel, you see. Like I was some kind of flipping Entertainment goddess. Kind of like Oprah, Russel Brand, Kate Bekinsale, an Asian genius and all of S Club 7 had a love child…and that love child was me. I felt so special.
But it’s been a couple of months now. Eventually I realized who Tequila really was. Someone who likes to lure girls in with promises of riches and glory and the best time they’ve ever had. But it’s all lies.
I saw you last night, and you seemed different somehow. Then again, maybe I’m the one who’s changed. Maybe, after playing the field, and “seeing what’s out there”, I can finally see what I had in you.
What we had, was something special. Something you don’t just find with any alcoholic beverage. Yes, we had our issues…but so does everyone. If we think about it, the good times really did outweigh the bad.
As soon as you touched my lips last night, I knew I had to have you back. Even though we only spent a couple of hours hanging out, you made me feel like that girl again. If we’d spent much more time together, I’d have been dancing like an extra in a Shakira video!
I guess what I’m saying is… I want you back Whiskey. You’re the one for me.