My therapist and I made the observation that there are many normal, single, 30-something women available in this world, but very few normal, single, 30-something men. Oh, there are plenty of single men in their 30’s, it the NORMAL part that is scarce. Does that mean there are more normal women in the world than normal men? I don’t think so. I think it means there are lots of normal men who married fucked up women. And I imagine that is because those fucked up women reminded those men of their mothers, but that’s another story.
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So it seems logical to me that what I need to do is be fucked up. Very fucked up. Bat shit crazy fucked up. What I really want is my own codependent.
I’ve been watching Intervention for the last year or so and what is most stunning to me is not that these addicts can heat up a Vicodin in a spoon and then inject it straight into a vein without burning themselves, but that they have people who will do ANYTHING to help them. People who will give them cash, drive them to their dealer’s house, sob their eyes out when the addict screams at them, trashes their house, prostitutes themselves, and steals shit. People who are willing to stick around for YEARS while this other person self destructs and sucks dry every person near them.
At first I could understand what it felt like to be those enabling codependents. In life, that has definitely been the direction I have leaned. Then, after about the 20th episode where the addict agreed to go to treatment then quit after 3 days and came home and everyone caved on all the threats they had made I realized something: I don’t want to be an enabler. I want to be the enable-ee! I want to be the addict! Other than the addiction, their lives are AWESOME!
So here you go, your opportunity to give and give and give and have your life mean something!
I plan to develop an addiction to pain pills, preferably Vicodin because it’s so easy to get, and you get to be my codependent! I imagine it will take 6 months to a year before I need to start stealing stuff to buy them, so you’ll get lots of drug-soaked sex in that time, and that will cement our bond.
After I lose my job and my license I’ll really hit that next step up of having to numb my pain over the loss of my hopes and dreams. This is where you will have to move in with me to really take care of my day to day needs and pay all the bills.
I’ll double the amount of Vicodin I need and probably have to start giving blow jobs to my dealer. To keep me from degrading myself you’ll give me cash, telling yourself that at least you can make sure I don’t get some horrible disease. Whenever you try to withhold the money to get me to sober up (you don’t REALLY want me to do this because deep down you know it would ruin our relationship, but you feel noble when you try to demand it) I will threaten to kill myself or I’ll stomp out of the house and down to 1st Ave and pretend I am trying to turn a trick. You’ll drive up in your car and lower the passenger window, driving 2 mph beside me while I pretend I am trying to walk away from you. You’ll be begging me to forgive you and “just get in the damned car.” After 5 minutes of this awesome drama you’ll “talk” me back into the car, and while I sob into your arms, you’ll agree to drive me to my dealer’s and score some more Vicodin. Which you will pay for so I won’t have sex with him. Secretly I am already having sex with him because I am using WAY more Vicodin than you know! We’ll repeat this scene weekly.
Soon I will graduate from the “vanilla” world of pill-popping and on to shooting up. I’m great with needles and veins so this will be a dream come true! After watching me ruin all the spoons in the house with my lighter, and finding me on the floor passed out with a needle sticking out of my arm you’ll find out what love really means!
Every day when you are at work I will send you hundreds of text messages and voice mails about how miserable I am and how I couldn’t live without you (and Vicodin). You will cry when you get these because you know I am a good person and I am hurting so much (I’ll have told you all about how my father was emotionally absent and I was teased mercilessly in middle school), and that I just need to be loved and then I will get better. While you know you are a loser to put up with me, you really love being needed like this. And who could possibly need you more than your previously beautiful, competent, intelligent, now totally fucked up addict girlfriend?
I see this as a win-win situation. You will get to recreate your relationship with your mother and feel needed. I will finally get to date a man who is normal, caring, and loving (and if you’re not I’ll just take another Vicodin).
- Location: Spokane
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