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So, you willingly encouraged someone to abuse drugs and alcohol so you could have a faux romance.
Are you telling us this story so you can get the stupid bitch slapping you so richly deserve?
Or, like most other Salon writers, do you think this somehow qualifies you for JT Leroy starfucker status: "silly me, I did a lot of incredibly stupid things but since I'm telling you that makes it all OK!"
Neither you nor your ex share a single redeeming quality. And thanks to your confusing 'being published' with being a writer, your spouse and children now have to face the world knowing that your reckless escapades will live in cyberspace for all to see for as long as we have an internet.
Are you sure you're not Ayalet Waldman writing under a pseudonym?