cop[13]
(fictional) Letter to a friend: You're not in the doghouse, per se. Well, certainly not with me. But you have made your bed, and there you shall sleep. It's a thing with you, it's a pattern. I mean, you tell me - you say, "oh I can't date an alcoholic," so it never quite worked out with Mischa. But then you turn around and poach Jake from Lauren. Drunk Jake, that's his nickname for fucks sake. Don't tell me they were broken up - it's more complicated than that. That's cover, you're justifying it to yourself. Its a lie you tell yourself and you believe it so well you actually had the gumption to get indignant TO ME when I suggested that maybe he didn't tell you exactly the truth about that. You talk about love, true love, sweep you off your feet romance, as if you have any idea what it means, or would recognize it if it lived with you for three years in Chelsea. Yeah, I went there. Remember when you left Ron for Patterson, an...