Dear Martini,

I do love you.  A lot.  Probably more than I should.  The first date was incredible.  You let my inhibitions down.  We had fabulous conversation with my date.  I rocked the short flirty dress with the high socks and tall boots.  You made me swoon.  I jumped PC the minute we walked through the door.  It was HOT.  And amazing.

But then you took me on that second date.  Which I admit, started out fabulously.  Another short flirty dress, this one pink, with the awesome Betsey Johnson socks that have ruffles and bows (squeal!), again paired with boots.  At first I was disappointed that you weren’t going to show.  But the bartender assured me you were and when you did…Mmmm…..heavenly.  More flirting.  More fun conversation.  And then we were having so much fun I agreed to three of you.  I mean, hell, the two of you that other night were so….perfectly delicious.  How could I say no?!  You are pretty enticing. 

*sigh*

And that is where the problems arose.  Because, man, that is a hell of a lot of Vodka.  We began disagreeing before we even left the pub (that I love btw, whether you are there or not).  I knew you’d been too pushy.  The ride home was dicey.  By the time we got home….ugh.  There was no jumping PC once inside.  I don’t even remember walking in the door.

I’ll just be straight with you.  I didn’t appreciate the way you treated me.  I mean, it’s not my favorite passing out cold on my bed…face down, with my boots and coat still on.  *ahem*  So, I have to break up with you.  Don’t even try to talk me out of it.  Don’t call me.  Don’t write.  It would just make things more difficult and tempting to  want to see you again.

~ xo

Vixen

6 Responses to “Dear Martini…”

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