You exhaust me. After I left you a month ago, I came back to you – as I always do. You lurked behind every social situation, you tested my limits, and you knew my weaknesses.

You always made me look bad by somehow smearing my makeup, getting stains on my new dress and making my eyes go all droopy. You splashed about, flaunting your image of a cooler life, but yet, you never held up your end of the bargain. Time and time again, you failed me and my baby inside my tummy (Just Kidding! No baby there!).

This weekend was no different. And I let you have your way with me. I don’t need you, I don’t think about you when you’re not around, but when you are there; when you do tempt me in London, at a club and with friends who are celebrating their new house – I think to myself, I’ll just have a couple of ya. Then, when I start to feel really good, I think – yeah, those shots of tequila are a brilliant idea! Sambuca? Sure! Southern Comfort and Lime juice? You know I wanna!!

You make me want to puke. But instead, I’ll just suck you dry through a straw. What do you say about that, huh?? Only real ladies suck you through a straw.

You taste more delicious the more I drink of you. But why are you determined to ruin my mornings after I taste all of your varieties? And why do you like to leave your scent all over my boyfriend? He’s mine! Not yours!

You’re determined to get in between me and my boyfriend. I know you and your wily ways.

You might make me more feisty, and spring challenges on me like heels on stairs, doormen who are determined to keep me out of the perfectly decent club that I would truly make a better place with my presence but he doesn’t get that, or a random girl in the bathroom in a pink skirt that is way too short for her own good prying her way in front of me to apply her horrible matching pink lipstick. Doesn’t she realize she looks like trash!?! You make me tell her that.

But beware, I can say no. I can. I can beat you down. At least for the next month…

I’m heading to Ireland next month, and God knows I have to drink you there.  But, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your Guiness friends to start coming in the Light variety. Ok?  Thanks!

And, one more thing. I am going to decide to stop competing against our British friends. I hang up the towel and say “Americans can’t drink as much as the Brits.” There, I said it. Happy?

Lots of Unrequited Love,

Your Dehydrated Friend,

MAL

P.S. Here are some pictures from this weekend before you took over. I know I look angry, but that’s actually just me trying to look cool with your cousin champagne in hand.

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