I've been meaning to write this letter to you for several years, but never got around to it until now. Funny how going through rehab woke me up to a lot of things, especially my relationship with you. When I first met you 10 years ago through our mutual friend Robert, there was an instant attraction. You came on strong and I liked that, because being so shy, you really drew me out of my shell. My life was instantly filled with energy and lust, and I just wanted more of you. You scratched an itch that had no person had ever touched before. The way you made me feel inside was unbelievable. With you, I felt I could do anything. I worked out for hours with you and watched my body transform. I loved the way you made me look and feel. I never understood why people looked down on you when we went out together. Some of my other friends didn't like seeing the two of us together, and I started to feel a little self conscious that they thought so poorly of the one I'd come to know and love. But you fixed that, Tina. All it took was a little bit more of you. You just kept giving and giving until I didn't care what they thought about our new relationship. It didn't matter that you were an expensive bitch. You got me into all the best places — sex clubs, bathhouses, the porn industry and on stage at world renowned bars and strip clubs. We were never apart. We flew around the country together, and I made it rain, day after day, because I wanted more of you, and I wanted to sustain our new love affair. Once in a while you'd go away for a few days, but I could never be apart from you for very long—I needed you, Tina. Being such a giver, you even introduced me to your friend Gina. But I never liked her as much as I loved you. I hated the way she tasted. And more often than not, she bored me to sleep. But a little more of you, Tina, and I was right back where I wanted to be — on top of the world.
As the years progressed I started noticing that we developed a very unidirectional codependent relationship. I started to put your needs ahead of my own. I would have done anything for you. You led me into a lot of situations that I was like, "What the Fuck?" At first it was fun, and there were some very hot times, but truth be told, I never really wanted to share you with anyone. I just wanted to isolate and be with you, all alone. The more I got to know you, the more I began to understand that what you were really after was something much, much darker. You dropped me off into some gnarly circumstances with sketchy people. What happened to your discriminating taste? Why did you leave me hangin? It was time to take a break from you — and so I left you for a while — a long while. But invariably I started to think about you again, and all the good times we had together. I'd have a bad day, or remember how I felt when I was on you, and I wanted to be near you again. So I'd make the call and within minutes I was with you again. It never felt quite the same, though. And now I couldn't just do you more often to get the judgment of our relationship out of my mind — I started to cover up our time together by making up stories and telling half-truths. I didn't want anyone to come between us, Tina, but I have to be honest with you, it was getting harder and harder for me to cover your ass.
The days passed, and you forced me to stay up through sunrises and sunsets, only to repeat the same routine day after day. As the days began to blur together, I became so dependent upon you, Tina, that I used you like coffee, just to wake up in the morning. Even the strongest espresso couldn't rouse me. I became so run down and ran so far into the ground that I began to question what had happened to the old days when we used to have fun together. This bottom-feeding, barrel scraping routine became less and less attractive. I could tell you started to take a toll on me when you left behind track marks and sores, my face gaunt and fat deposits unevenly distributed on what was once an ass like two ripe melons. I started taking sleeping pills and speedballing xanax to control your ire, my mind's own rough way of roughing you back up. I laid in sun beds and used cover-up to hide your toll. Oh, how you aged me, prematurely, Tina. You left me with STD's: chlamydia, syphilis, gonnoreah, and then the mother-of-them-all, HIV. I stopped you. I started you. Then I stopped you again, thinking I could go back to a previous way of life. Even meeting the man of my dreams could not stop our love/hate relationship. You turned me ugly when I started lying to my beloved about our relationship, even becoming violent when friends intervened upon you. Lies upon lies, lies within lies and around mis-truths—all chicanery to avoid the real truth, that I was addicted to you. You told me that 12-step programs were for weaklings, that I should be able to quit you on my own volition and self will. You led me to the brink of death numerous times and even to suicide.
Well that is where the madness stops.
Goodbye, Tina. Goodbye to your wicked ways and dirty, lying schemes. Goodbye to your filthy, battery-acid, rat-poisoned, stolen Sudafed laced life. Adios to your inscrutability and careless consequences. You are the most vile, slimy, sketchy substance that I've known.x Good riddance to your sores, your STDs, your flaky skin and ever flakier behavior. May you burn in flames for the damage you do to millions of people who will not be lucky enough to escape your crooked seductions. But Tina, it's I who will have the last laugh. Because even though I revile you, I also thank you for showing me the darkest depths of despair, so that I may now experience the glorious heights that come from a life clean without you. I will laugh you into your own dirty grave. Thank you for teaching me that the most seductive can sometimes be the most damaging. You are a perilous, reckless lover Tina. You leave no man standing in your wake. You take all men and women as your prisoner and leave them to rot in a pauper's prison. Well, not me, Tina. Cause THIS is goodbye. You shall not hear from me again. And please don't call me, because I've thrown out your phone number. Girl, I wouldn't touch you with a nine hundred and nineteen foot pole.