I Hate This! Blog

I hate my ex-girlfriend with the fury of a thousand supernovas. While this may seem like a typical comment, the full impact of this comment will surely seep into the readers’ mind as you read below. I hope you all take what you read here to heart, and remember it as a cautionary tale about mixing love and trust with addictions.

This girl was an ‘ex’ heroin junkie who had been clean and out of rehab for three months after using for a year. When I met her, she was getting her life together, or so it seemed. Over the following four months’ time I thought I had come to know her well, but I was sorely mistaken.

My father and myself share a 2-bedroom apartment. I’m employed in a technical field and make decent money, but am in an area where the cost of living is exhorbitant. He is 70 years old and lives off his social security checks and odd jobs he does for people in the neighborhood. My girlfriend asked me after our having been together for three months if I would allow her to move in with us, saying she would have no problem pitching a third of the rent. Mind you, I had been cautious with her considering her rather sordid recent past. I gave her a chance by extending my kindness in her direction. She moved in, and things started to go awry almost immediately.

At first it was little things: Leaving cigarettes burning in random places all over the house instead of putting them out, not contributing toward food, leaving a mess in the bathroom and spending hours in the bathroom doing her make-up. Then things started to get more serious when she said she would shape up her act and did not do so. We had an argument about it after our initial talk, and lo and behold she disappeared for three days. She later showed up on my doorstep and gave me this elaborate story about how she had hitchhiked to her parents’ house. I started to think that this arrangement wasn’t such a good idea after all. My suspicion was confirmed when she confronted me and gave me a lecture about the quality of my moral fiber after she snooped thru my sock drawer and found two porn magazines.

This past week I recieved a shock that has completely shaken me to my core. Out of angry retaliation I went thru her purse while she slept. I found a used syringe and a substantial amount of heroin pills. So the first bit of truth comes to light: She was still using all that time, just being cautious about not doing too much so that I wouldn’t catch on. I did my own bit of deception when I took her entire purse and hid it. When she started getting insane about finding it, I insisted she hadn’t brought it in with her and that she must have left it at work or one of her friends’ houses. She bought it, thankful that she hadn’t kept her ID and credit cards in the purse that day, and decided to buy a new purse before her trip to see her parents this weekend.

The second bit came out when I confided in my dad. He told me first that he was extremely embarassed to tell me this, but that he felt he had to. He said that two days after she moved in, she started trying to seduce him while I wasn’t around. She kept the pressure up until he caved, sneaking into his room during the night to touch and tease him until he woke up.

The third bit did far more than simply infuriate me, as if I had not already had enough to be angry about. My father told me that he believed she had injected him with a small dose of heroin one night while he was asleep. He woke up but was unable to do much because he was so sedated, and she essentially raped him. She then extracted a promise from him that he would keep this all a secret from me.

This girl is lucky I found out about all this while she was gone for the weekend visiting her parents. If she had been here, I likely would have not thought twice about throwing her down the stairs with no hesitation whatsoever. To do such a series of disgusting things to a lonely, naive old man is reprehensible enough; to do so behind her boyfriend’s back, whom she proclaimed her undying love for just a few days earlier, is a debasement the likes of which I would not wish on my worst enemy. Ironically she has now become just that.

It’s going to be quite a show tonight when she comes back from her parents’ house and finds that not only have the locks been changed, but all her stuff is conveniently piled up in trash bags with kitchen trash mixed in, or otherwise broken down for ease of loading into the dump truck. I will sincerely enjoy watching silently from the window as she tries the key, then realizes her stuff is on the curb, then tries the key again, then has a nice talk with the officers that pull up shortly after she arrives in order to cart her off to jail for reckless endangerment and drug posession. As soon as she left, we called the police and signed affidavits to wit that the drugs were hers, and that she had in fact done what both my father and myself told them.

The moral of the story, is that a junkie’s a junkie’s a junkie. Maybe I’ll meet an ex junkie some day who will honestly lead me to believe otherwise, but it’ll be a hard win. This drug turns people into lying, cheating, theiving shells of their former selves. It nearly killed my father with guilt, much less the additional heart strain of addiction, and could very well have ruined my relationship with him. This dopehead slut is going to be facing probably more than a year in prison for her actions. We have hired a lawyer, are anticipating her arrest to press charges, and will see her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.