Nobi's out of bourbon

There's this girl. You know she's no good for you. Never has been. All those hours you've spent with her -- not to mention the money you've spent, and what has she ever given in return? Year after year of letdowns. But sucker that you are, you've always kept crawling back, trying to convince yourself that you're happy with her.

This year, it seemed like your dogged, stupid loyalty had paid off. She'd finally gotten her shit together. Hell, she was fucking hot. You knew it, she knew it, everyone knew it. You were proud to be seen together. Your friends were envious. The two of you were walking talking happening angels of the moment.

And so you did it. You threw away the last layer of resistance. You said 'yes' to the mortgage, 'yes' to the diamond. She was all you thought about, and you didn't care who knew it. You were flying high, you were walking down the fucking aisle. And then, just when your happiness was right there, the confetti was ready to fall, the fireworks to pour into the sky, an open caddy riding into a never-ending sunset...

She falls apart. In a moment of clarity you see the numbers on her phone. You see the tracks on her arm. You know without looking that your bank account's been cleaned out. The poems were just cut and pasted from the Net. The I-told-you-so's were hitting you like the first drops of rain. She'd fucked you over again and all that you'd learned was that you never learn.

Damn you, Canucks.