More from the advice mines

Written by Cary Tennis to a woman enabling her boyfriend to be a mooch:

Dear Enabler,

I dare you to let go of the rope.

You say you're at the end of your rope. So close your eyes and picture the rope. Where is the rope? Is it in your hands or around your neck, or around your waist? What kind of rope is it?

Follow the rope. How long is it? Where does it lead? Who's on the other end of it? Is it your boyfriend, dangling over the street? Is it that kind of rope? Or is it the kind of rope they keep dogs in yards with? Are you tied, straining against the rope? Who else might be at the end of the rope? Your mom?

I dare you to let go of the rope.

Handle the rope. Feel its texture. How old is it? Is it a rope you've had a long time or is it a new rope? How did you acquire it? Did you buy it after your fiancé died? Did someone give it to you?

Examine the rope. Feel its texture. Fee how taut it is. Then let it go.

You don't need it. You've reached the end of it. It's not your rope.

After all, you haven't reached the end of his rope. His rope is endless. You'll never reach the end of his rope. But your rope is only so long, and you're at the end of it. So just fucking let it go.

It's not a real rope. It's imaginary. You can't hurt anyone by letting go of it. So just let it go. Slip out of it and leave it behind.

Let go of the fucking rope.