My girlfriend (the ex from part one) wasn’t a bad girl; she was sweet, funny and a little bit off the wall at times; but certainly not bad. Well I never saw her dark side at least. The same girl did try to get me high though, not so innocent after all. She didn’t only puff on tobacco; she liked the green leaves also.
I never used to drive back then so after our dates we would stroll around the streets delaying ‘home time’. Chatting about whatever, and sharing more than a few jokes. We ended up walking through a quiet residential area and she pulled out a joint she had rolled earlier.
I didn’t like the fact that she smoked, or that she got high either. It didn’t bug me enough to break up with her so it wasn’t really a big issue at all. The pros outweighed the cons.
‘I want see what you’re like when your high’, she said it with a suggestive smile. ‘Light it up then’ I replied. She didn’t think that I would try it, she thought I was just messing about . . . she wasn’t aware that I had tried ‘funny’ cigarettes before. I kept my cool and played it off like it was nothing. She took the first hit and passed it to me. Her face had a huge grin plastered on; I took a drag, inhaled and exhaled blowing the smoke just past her face, as if to confirm that I had taken it in.
‘How do you feel?’ she asked. I felt normal, as if I had just finished a glass of water. Her face was clearly disappointed so she handed me the joint once more, ‘Do it again, you didn’t do it properly.’ I took another hit, deeper this time. I inhaled with my mouth open so she could follow the smoke into my lungs, and exhaled. She stared for a short while . . . ‘how do you feel now?’
I felt normal. Drugs are a disappointment.
OK, rewind back to 2003 . . . you remember my friend who generously handed me cigarettes at will right?
Well . . . he had his own flat for about 3 or 4 months. He got hooked up by one of his dads friends who had decided to move in with his girlfriend. My friend got the flat for £20 a week . . . great init?
He also inherited a massive tub of weed (cannabis). The chunk was larger than a tennis ball.
It was also drier than sand in the desert! It must have been older than both of our combined ages. We didn’t know what to do with it so we waited for another buddy to come around with his roll up skills. Four of us ended up sharing the joint . . . we puffed, puffed and puffed . . . no one got high . . . might as well have rolled up begonias.
It wasn’t until a month later that I felt the hit of drugs. The same friend (it’s a good thing that I don’t hang around with this guy anymore) asked me to meet him at his aunt’s house before we went out to a club. His aunt had generously rolled up a little treat for us. It wasn’t weed though, it was some dirty cheap stuff, and I think its called Ash, Skunk or Punk. It’s like black soot.
I should have said ‘no’ when he asked me to try it, but there were three of us there and I didn’t want to be chilling out with two stoned guys trying to make sense of their ramblings . . . I wanted to be rambling too.
I will never try that sh*t again as long as I live! It was nasty, went straight to my head and felt like I had been punched between the eyes. That junk slowed me down, I didn’t even want to go to the club when we left . . . I just wanted to wash that junk out of my system, or sleep it off.
I was disappointed in myself for trying it, what was I thinking? It wasn’t like me to even be smoking cigarettes, talk less of class C drugs. OK, it’s not exactly heroin or cocaine, but it was stupid nonetheless. I knew I wouldn’t have a problem with it even if I did enjoy the high (which I didn’t); I just wanted ease my curiosity and be able to say that I had done it. Well I think that’s what I was thinking at the time . . . who actually wants to be a stoner?
Evidently I didn’t do enough drugs to lecture anyone against it, but you don’t need dementia and hundreds of needle pokes in your arms to say that drugs are bad. Go and watch Requiem For A Dream.
Part 3 (yeah there’s more) coming up next.
A to the . . .
