Hola Ricky!
It’s me, the girl who was “Living La Vida Loca”! Loved that song, by the way! Really. God, those were crazy times! Really really crazy. Literally crazy. How are you? I know it’s been almost twenty years, but I just thought I’d say hi and let you know how I’m doing since undergoing treatment for what it turns out was my severe mental illness. I’m sure that explains a lot. So I just wanted to let you know that I’m finally dealing with these issues, and this letter is an important part of the healing process that I’ve embarked upon with the help of a dedicated team of psychiatrists and mental health professionals. It’s also an attempt at an apology and closure on my part, so thank you for letting me reach out to you after everything I put you through. We could really just go through the song you wrote about me line by line and deal with the issues in that order, since it was such a detailed and accurate description of both me and our time together—which I completely understand you had a need to come to terms with, so I don’t blame you at all for depicting me or our relationship the way you did.
Ok so, opening verse: “She's into superstitions/Black cats and voodoo dolls/I feel a premonition/That girl's gonna make me fall.” First of all, my addictive personality and attention deficit disorders are finally under control. I’m still into superstition, although not so much black cats (you should know that Gargamel passed away eight years ago, and I’m still devastated by it, even though I know you weren’t too fond of him). You’ll be relieved to know I’m no longer into voodoo dolls, as I've since become a Wiccan. I know those voodoo dolls all over my house freaked you right the fuck out, especially the ones smeared in that devil red lipstick I used to wear. You’ll be happy to know they are all gone, every single one of them replaced with just normal dolls.
On to the second verse: “She's into new sensations/New kicks in the candlelight/She's got a new addiction/For every day and night.” I've since been diagnosed with ADHD, but you'll be relieved to know that I’m no longer into new sensations as much as I used to be. I can appreciate the things that are already in my life without needing something new and exciting all the time to hide how unhappy I was or to fill the gaping hole of depression that once festered inside of me. I have also learnt to deal with my manic depressive bipolar behavior, using various antidepressants along with diverse stress-reduction techniques, and I never go anywhere without a stress ball in both hands at all times. I should also mention that I don’t need constant kicks in the candlelight (sorry about the dripping wax burns) and I no longer have a new addiction for every living day and every goddamn night. Man, that was tiring even for me, so I can imagine how it was for you. I’m so sorry, chacho.
Boy, the pre-chorus is rough: “She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain/She'll make you live her crazy life but she'll take away the pain/Like a bullet to your brain, come on!” I should take this opportunity to especially apologize for making you take off all your clothes and go dancing in the rain. That was just plain idiotic, not to mention cruel. I mean, there wasn't even any music. I just wasn’t thinking straight, subjecting you to my clinical insanity like that, so I’m really glad you didn’t end up ever putting that bullet to your brain like you threatened you would when I wouldn't stop calling you while you were hospitalized with pneumonia after having been arrested for indecent exposure. I mean, come on! I really couldn’t have lived with that kind of guilt. Once again, so so so sorry.
And then there's the chorus. As you’ll no doubt remember, I was totally “upside inside out, pushing you and pulling you down” but I’ve finally learned to control my violent urges and am taking antipsychotics which have really really helped with those kinds of sadomasochistic tendencies, not to mention all the delusions, hallucinations, and disordered thoughts I’d been having, especially during one of my dancing-naked-in-the-rain breakdowns. I suspect the ADHD was also a factor there.
On a positive note, I have since ditched that glossy “devil red” lipstick, as you called it, for a far more subtle matte Alabama crimson. My skin, on the other hand, is still “the color of mocha”, albeit slightly faded considering I’ve been spending a lot of time indoors of late, mainly due to the photophobia that’s an unfortunate side effect of the diabetes medication I’m taking. As you can imagine, Living La Vida Loca wasn’t really conducive to a style of living that could sustain a well-balanced diet, so I’ve inevitably put on a few pounds over the years, and the antipsychotic drugs haven’t helped with the weight gain and subsequent obesity either.
And then of course there’s that time in New York City where I: Completely. Fucking. Lost. It. Verse three sums it up, I guess: “Woke up in New York City in a funky cheap hotel/She took my heart and she took my money/She must've slipped me a sleeping pill.” Wow, where to begin? To be fair, the “funky cheap hotel” was NOT my choice. Nice euphemism, by the way. Let’s face it, it was a by-the-hour hooker hotel. But it was cold, it was late, we needed to sleep, and it was right there. We BOTH made the decision on that one (I remember you turning to me, shivering and wet, stuttering “Jesus Christ, let's just go inside!”). It WAS my fault, however, that I kept lighting innumerable candles and skewering voodoo dolls while dancing naked in the shower to the point where you ended up screaming “ENOUGH!” over and over again until I slipped you a sleeping pill and stole all your money.
The next pre-chorus is spot on: “She never drinks the water, orders French champagne/Once you've had a taste of her, you'll never be the same/SHE'LL MAKE YOU GO INSANE/Come on!” Yes, ordering all that French champagne to the room was particularly pernicious because you had no way of paying for it after I took all your money and your wallet. I can only imagine the conversation you must’ve had the next day with those creepy Albanian guys at the front desk. I know it’s hard to forgive anyone for doing something like that, and I know I nearly made you go literally insane. But I just want you to know I was very very sick at the time. Once again, I am so so so so SO sorry. On another positive note, you’ll be glad to know the antipsychotics I'm on seem to have also cured my kleptomania. And I even drink water now! A lot of water... It helps clean the kidneys from all the medication I'm taking.
I could see how you would never ever want to be with a woman again after dating someone like me, but I hope you could at least find it in your heart to forgive me. Hey, you got a pretty good hit song out of it at least! So in a way, I kinda helped launch your career, right? That’s what my lawyer boyfriend whom I met at AA says anyway. Maybe once all this madness is past us, he and I can drop by for a coffee and have a laugh about all the crazy times we had and about how I had a share in your success?
Anyway Ricky, time to sign off. On a final note, I just want you to know it took all of my resourcefulness to find your mailing address and pluck up the courage to write you this letter. Mr. Martin, you are a hard man to find! I actually even drove all the way down to Miami and made it right to your front gate last week to deliver this letter in person! I know, it’s silly of me, I should’ve just rung the buzzer a few more times, but in the end I thought better of it and your security guy insisted I leave. I’m just saying this because I want you to know how much this means to me.
Love always,
Lavidia
P.S. When did you know you were gay?
