I know you never depended on me, but it was always a pleasure, wasn't it? We had lots of great times, especially after my third or fourth Manhattan and got a little louder, when I tipped 100%, when I stumbled out the door. You were always happy to see me, and you saw me often. You were always good to me. The drinks you poured me were always strong, my wine glass was never empty, and you never looked at me like I was crazy when I ordered the third pitcher. With you, I was always at least okay.
I'm sorry, but we have to separate. It's not you, it's my weak body and poor judgement, it's my bleeding stomach and my having tired of being constantly hungover or working on my next hangover. You'll say I just need to cut back for a while. You'll advise moderation. I have never known moderation. I always lose at the "betcha can't have just one" challenge.
I still love you, but I no longer want to need you. Maybe we can be friends, one day, but you won't see me for a while.
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