I am often thankful that the man I married does not partake in any drugs other than over-the-counter medicine. Considering my obsessive-compulsive tendencies, it could have been the perfect storm and/or a train wreck, otherwise. However, there is a downside to the man I married frowning upon now-legal drugs such as marijuana, of which I have partaken in off-and-on over the years — and more recently, due to several factors: a) accessibility, b) simpler methods such as edibles and vape pens, and c) my being diagnosed with anxiety two years ago.
Chuck had never condoned marijuana usage, mainly because it was illegal — or so I thought. Back when it was on the ballot about ten years ago, the subject came up while we were at the home of close friends Janet and Randy. “Be ready,” I told Chuck, meaning that, if it passed, I would more than likely be buying it and smoking when I wanted, instead of just now and then, when I happened to be around people who were smoking.
“So, you’re going to smoke it even though I disapprove?“ he shot back.
“But it’ll be legal,” was my response.
“But I still don’t approve of it,” he said, eyes flashing, “I don’t like the smoke, and it makes people act stupid.”
“Well, I’m sorry; I just won’t do it around you, then,” I said.
Janet (a PR exec.) and Randy (a lawyer) were interjecting here and there, but not really taking sides.
The conversation — or make that, debate — continued, getting dicier.
“Okay, then how about I do something you won’t approve of, like have sex with another woman?,” Chuck countered.
The group fell silent for a moment.
I took a breath and responded, “So you’re equating my putting a joint in my mouth with you putting your dick in another woman’s pussy? Really?”
“Well, he began,” you know I don’t approve of you smoking pot, so how about I do something you don’t approve of?”
“Okay, whatever,” I rolled my eyes, then jokingly added, “I’m glad there’s lawyer present…” I really didn’t want to continue the conversation after that, for fear of spoiling a pleasant evening with our friends over petty differences.
I told Chuck when we were alone that that was a ridiculous comparison, and, if that was really how he felt, then perhaps we should get back into counseling.
Fast-forward to now, I doubt he has acted upon his threat, and, for the most part, I have respectfully not been blatant about smoking in his presence (he truly hates smoke, once telling me that had I been a cigarette smoker, he would have never dated me; I never have been). In a nutshell, we’ve (sort of) come to the point where, when it comes to pot-smoking, we agree to disagree, that’s all.
There have been times when his uptightness has tempted the rascal in me to slip him an edible, but that has always struck me as somewhat unethical, disrespectful — and sneaky, similar to my friends years ago threatening to give me (and my “snobby palate”) a glass of “2-Buck Chuck” chardonnay (Trader Joe’s crappy Charles Shaw wine, which, due to a raise in price, can no longer be labeled 2BC), telling me it was a La Crema. Must people be so desperate to prove a point that mean-spiritedness, sneakiness and disrespect have to come into play? No thanks, not my style.
So, that is where I am, now; not an everyday thing, but enjoying marijuana more than I used to. I am in good company — not in my home, but in general, and considering the stuff I have experimented with in the past, this is quite moderate. I work full-time in a career I love, bring plenty to the table financially, and keep things functioning in our home life. Chuck and I enjoy cocktails together, sharing a good bottle of wine on some weekends and special occasions. We talk about marijuana usage now and then, but he is still dead-set against it for himself, would rather I didn’t, and we leave it at that.
So, that’s it for my Drug series; onto another subject tomorrow, for Day 10. I’m going to go take a drag off my pen pipe now.