A Tragic Relationship
I first met her in high school. She was older than I and exciting. She’d
“been around.” My parents warned me to have nothing to do with her, but
I kept meeting her on the sly. She was so sophisticated and worldly. It
made me feel grown up just being with her. It was fun to take her to a party
in those days.
We began seeing more of each other, after I started college. When I got a
place of my own, she was a frequent guest. It was heartbreaking for my
parents. But I kept reminding myself that I wasn’t a kid any more, and I
wasn’t breaking any laws.
We lived together right through college and into my early days in business.
I seldom went anywhere without her. I wasn’t blind. I knew she was
unfaithful to me, but I didn’t care. As long as she was there for me when I
needed her (and she always was), it didn’t matter. The longer we lived
together, the more attached I became to her, but it wasn’t mutual. She
began to make me look foolish in front of my friends. It became a
love/hate relationship. I figured out that her glamour was nothing more
than a cheap mask to hide her spite and cynicism.
After I came to know her true character, she no longer seemed as beautiful
as before, but old habits are hard to break. Even though my relationship
with her made me lose a little respect for myself, she had become the center
of my life. I became deeply depressed and knew that she was largely
responsible for my misery.
I finally summoned the courage to tell her I was leaving for good. I still see
her around, and I still miss her now and then. I’m not boasting when I say
she’d take me back in a minute, but by the grace of God, I will never take up
with her again. Chances are you know her family. The name is Alcohol !
- Adapted, author unknown