American Drug Addict: a memoir

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American Drug Addict: a memoir Page 8

by Brett Douglas


  One particularly busy lunch rush, Chris smashed a fly with the spatula and put it on a hamburger. We giggled as we watched a police officer eat it. A competition was now in place. We laughed as I spit a big, green loogie on a hamburger. Not to be outdone, Chris wrung out a dirty cleaning rag on one. I knew I could beat that, so I took the top and bottom buns of an order and sopped up the dirty, gray water off the floor. The entire time, we were howling with laughter.

  This next one is rather obvious.

  Shit I Know To Be True

  1. Don’t give tube socks to children for Christmas… EVER

  2. A preoccupation with external appearances is sometimes used to hide something unattractive on the inside

  3. The closest we come to immortality is the positive legacy we are remembered by

  4. Those things that make us different, make us better

  5. All good things go bad eventually

  6. Do not moon cars in your own neighborhood

  7. Never eat in a restaurant where the cooks are laughing hysterically

  Whataburger would eventually change the course of my life in a drastic way.

  Adrianne

  I met Adrianne in Home Economics class. She was tall, slim and muscular, a result of being on the Washington High School swim team. I learned the only thing I liked better than large breasts were small ones. She had a deeper voice than most females, long sandy-blonde hair, puffy cheeks, and a beautiful, perfectly proportioned face.

  Although Adrianne ran in a social circle outside of my own, she seemed to like me. After a few weeks of flirting, she told me to come to her bedroom window at midnight, a request I was happy to fulfill. Once there, I reenacted everything I had witnessed in all those John Holmes’ movies I had watched years earlier. Afterward, she said, “I knew you would be a good lover.” Thus began our torrid love affair.

  Like most relationships, the beginning was incredible. Adrianne was a sexual dynamo and a lot of fun to be around. She wasn’t mischievous like Cheryl but was always looking for a party.

  Adrianne loved to get drunk but vehemently opposed drug use. I made several attempts to lessen her opposition to marijuana, but she wouldn’t budge. I was falling hard for her, so I did what any blossoming drug addict would do to demonstrate his devotion. I lied.

  Since I couldn’t get high with her, I drank alcohol when we were together and smoked weed when we weren’t. Chris and I were recording music at the time, and getting stoned was an essential part of the process. Eventually, Adrianne wanted me to stop associating with him, a demand I refused to comply with. Instead of leveling with her, I lied about my whereabouts, a habit I kept for many years.

  I don’t like to drink alcohol because it doesn’t bring out my best qualities. I tend to get emotional or angry. I also hate hangovers. But Adrianne wasn’t interested in spending time with my stoner friends. So, I attempted to fit in with her crowd, although I found them difficult to relate to. I’m not a typical, testosterone-ridden, alpha male. I prefer relationships over one-night stands. I prefer intelligent conversation over “my dick’s bigger than yours” bravado. To be honest, sex stresses me out. This pressure is similar to what a Broadway performer feels; every night must be award-winning. I must be comfortable with the person I’m with, in an environment I’m comfortable in (usually), or my toy soldier will not salute. Most men will fuck a hornet’s nest if you spray perfume on it.

  Another challenge with dating Adrianne was her uncle, Dean Carl. He was the biggest, meanest dean at Washington High School, the same one I tormented with my bathroom pot smoking. Every time she skipped school, I got called to his office. My less-than-stellar reputation didn’t help. During one of these interrogations, I wore a black blazer covered with buttons, most of which were of bands I liked. Dean Carl pulled one off my jacket and said, “You can’t wear sexually explicit buttons.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What do you think a “sex pistol” is?”

  I laughed. The meaning of the band’s name had never occurred to me.

  “What else do you have on you?” he asked as he started rummaging through my pockets. He pulled out a plastic eyeball and a rubber frog; I can’t remember why I had those things. I thought I was home free until he removed a condom from my pocket, a possession I would have normally been admired for having.

  “And what’s this for?” Dean Carl glared at me.

  “Uh…in case I ever have sex.” I don’t think he bought my answer. Thank God I left my weed in the car.

  During my high school years, Dean Carl was around every corner. I couldn’t shake this guy, especially when Adrianne and I were together. One Thanksgiving, I ate dinner with her family and was appalled to see him sitting at the table. He was like a bad case of herpes, popping up at the worst time. After dinner, I dragged Adrianne into the bathroom and had sex with her, just 15 feet from him. he he he…

  As stated earlier, all good things go bad eventually. Our excessive drinking started to cause problems. Drama and fighting became a regular occurrence. I tried to be the person she wanted, but the pretense was making me unhappy. The more strenuous my efforts to fit in with her crowd, the more I felt like an outsider, which was exacerbated by the alcohol. My relationship with Cheryl was devoid of discord. I expected all relationships to be that smooth. Now, dissonance was the norm, and our love affair had become a soap opera. We no longer enjoyed each other’s company; we were simply accustomed to one another. This disconnect wasn’t always her fault. Actually, it seldom was.

  Adrianne, some of her friends and I went to Pensacola Beach after Hurricane Elena to look at the damage. The hotels were gutted by the storm surge and fenced off to prevent people from going inside. Regardless, we managed to sneak into one of them and look around. As we were leaving, I ignited one of the many piles of mattresses with a lighter. No one saw me do it. We left the hotel, drove to the end of the beach, turned around and drove back. When we passed the building again, the entire structure was in flames. Adrianne was furious. “What the hell did you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. I can’t believe you. What the fuck were you thinking?”

  Geoff, Cheryl, and Chris would have thought my actions were funny. Adrianne and her friends were mortified. They immediately took me home.

  Without warning, Adrianne fell silent. No calls. No visits. She would have nothing to do with me. A few weeks later, I saw her at a party in the arms of another man. I left, sick to my stomach.

  Two days later, I saw her car parked at an unfamiliar house. I stopped and knocked on the door. When it opened, I was standing face to face with the man I saw Adrianne with at the party. Before I could speak, she came walking down the stairs in her panties and his shirt. Without saying a word, I turned and walked to my car, tears welling up. I drove home and had a long, loud, tearful cry. That level of pain was new to me. When no more tears came forth, I had to face reality. Adrianne and I were through.

  Chris was happy about our split. He made me realize, in his deadpan manner, I had been chasing Adrianne around like a puppy, desperately pining for her acceptance and affection. I wasn’t her type and had unsuccessfully attempted to be someone I wasn’t. Opposites don’t always attract.

  I felt rudderless. I hadn’t been single in years, and the adjustment was rough. But at least I could openly smoke weed and quickly made up for lost time.

  Near our neighborhood is an area called “The Bluffs,” which is a cliff overlooking Pensacola Bay. It has two boardwalks, about fifty yards apart, both leading to the water below. Each has a parking lot in front, which was a popular hangout for teenagers. One evening, Chris, Burgess, and I pulled up to the larger of the two boardwalks, where a sizable crowd had gathered. I saw Adrianne sitting on the tailgate of a truck with her new boyfriend. “Let’s go down to the other one,” Chris said.

  The three of us walked down the steps of the second boardwalk, although I was the only one with a purpose. I got to the bottom and looked
out over the beach, recalling a night when Adrianne and I made love to the quiet sound of the lapping waves. I looked down the beach and saw the end of the first boardwalk. “FUCK YOU, WHORE!” I futilely yelled at the night.

  I noticed Chris and Burgess were gone. I didn’t know how long I’d been standing there and suddenly wanted to get away from this place. I ran up the long boardwalk, trying to put the beach and Adrianne behind me. If only life were that simple.

  I was half way up when I saw her sitting on the steps. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “What is there to say? Where’s your boyfriend?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean ‘He’s gone?’”

  “I told him to leave. He was using me for sex.”

  “And it took two months to figure that out?”

  Adrianne stood and faced me, tears streaking her face. “I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I miss you so much.”

  We spent the evening discussing our relationship. I told her about the lesson I learned from our separation, a belief I hold to this day. I call it…

  The Relationship Paradigm

  In every romantic relationship, one person will need it more than the other. This need is not the same as love. One person will be needier, clingier, more possessive and insecure than the other.

  This is because of the…

  One Up/One Down Axiom

  The person who needs the relationship more is ONE DOWN and is always at a disadvantage. This person is easily manipulated and will change themselves to accommodate the other.

  The person who needs the relationship less is ONE UP and always has the advantage. This person makes most of the decisions and enjoys the luxury of being themselves.

  These roles are not consciously pursued and can toggle back and forth, but generally, one person is mostly up, and the other is mostly down. Love is a chess game with each player trying to gain the emotional advantage.

  I didn’t realize how “one down” I was with Adrianne until we separated and I had time to think about my behavior. I told her I would no longer make any concessions to her. Love the person I am or forget it.

  Which leads us to….

  Shit I Know To Be True

  1. Don’t give tube socks to children for Christmas… EVER

  2. A preoccupation with external appearances is sometimes used to hide something unattractive on the inside

  3. The closest we come to immortality is the positive legacy we are remembered by

  4. Those things that make us different, make us better

  5. All good things go bad eventually

  6. Do not moon cars in your own neighborhood

  7. Never eat in a restaurant where the cooks are laughing hysterically

  8. No matter how small the detail, never compromise yourself for love’s sake

  I think this song sums it up quite nicely.

  Stories of Old

  by

  Depeche Mode

  Take a look at unselected cases

  You will find love has been wrecked

  By both sides compromising

  Amounting to a disastrous effect

  You hear stories of old

  Of princes bold

  With riches untold

  Happy souls

  Casting it all aside

  To take some bride

  To have the girl of their dreams

  At their side

  But not me

  I can’t do that

  Not me

  I’m not like that

  I couldn’t sacrifice

  Anything at all to love

  I really like you

  I’m attracted to you

  The way you move

  The things you do

  I’ll probably burn in Hell

  For saying this

  But I’m really in Heaven

  Whenever we kiss

  But Oh no!

  You won’t change me

  You can try

  For an eternity

  I wouldn’t sacrifice

  Anything at all to love

  Now I’ve got things to do

  You have too

  And I’ve got to be me

  You’ve got to be you

  So take my hand

  And feel these lips

  And let’s savor a kiss

  Like we’d savor a sip

  Of vintage wine

  One more time

  Let’s surrender

  To this love divine

  And we won’t sacrifice

  Anything at all to love

  Soon after, Adrianne and I separated for good. I swore I would never be “one down” in a relationship again, no matter how much pain I felt or how long I would be alone. After our romance ended, five years would pass before I dated again. But only six months went by before I met the love of my life.

  Dana

  Six months after Adrianne’s departure, Chris and I were working at Whataburger when we were introduced to a new employee. Dana was short and frail, with shoulder-length, light brown hair, and dull brown eyes. Although she was older than us, Chris was smitten with her. I, on the other hand, was not interested.

  Chris eventually convinced her to go out with him. For some reason, Gary, a stoner friend, and I were invited. I brought the weed, and she provided the alcohol. We were having a good time when she asked Chris to take her to a friend’s house. The four of us ended up on the ABC streets, a bad section of town where all the street names were a single letter (A Street, B Street, etc.). We pulled up to a particularly shady house, and she quickly disappeared inside.

  “What the fuck are we doing here?” I nervously asked.

  “I don’t know,” Chris flatly responded.

  “Man, fuck this cunt noise,” Gary replied with a phrase he frequently used.

  “Well, I’m not leaving her here!” Chris barked with an unusual level of emotion.

  Dana finally returned. “Now drive to the 7-11 and park on the side,” she excitedly said. Chris obliged. Once parked, she pulled a pouch from her purse and produced a small bag of yellow powder. “Who wants to get high?” she asked with a Cheshire cat grin.

  “What’s that?” Chris asked.

  “Cocaine,” Dana said as she produced four hypodermic needles.

  Upon seeing them, Chris and Gary emphatically declined. I, on the other hand, stuck my arm out without hesitating. “I’ll do it,” I answered like a starving man responding to food.

  Dana melted the cocaine in a spoon and gave herself a shot, then turned to me. I had done coke once before but knew this experience would be different. The anticipation I felt while waiting for her to prepare my shot was a high in itself. I started feeling anxious. A knot developed in the pit of my stomach, and time seemed to slow down. Her turn went quickly, but mine seemed to be taking forever.

  “You ready?” Dana finally asked.

  “Yes,” I panted. I had been ready for this my entire life.

  Dana rolled up my sleeve, tied a belt around my upper arm, and studied it at the fold. After a moment, I felt a sting. I patiently waited for the change in consciousness I knew would be coming. A couple of seconds went by, and nothing felt different. Suddenly, an intense warmth ran throughout my body.

  “Uh!” I gasped as I braced myself with my other arm. The air was sucked from my lungs. The numbing taste of cocaine flooded my mouth, but I could tell it was coming from the inside of my tongue. A euphoria racked my body, unlike anything I had ever felt. I sat back in my seat, closed my eyes, and relished my first, sweet encounter with the love of my life. (I tricked you. You thought I was talking about Dana.)

  I don’t remember how we spent the rest of that evening. Nothing could compare to the experience I just had. At the time, this moment seemed like just another fun night that soon would become a pleasant memory. But the door I walked through operates l
ike a heart valve. Once I passed through it, I could never go back.

  Now, I realize...

  Shit I Know To Be True

  1. Don’t give tube socks to children for Christmas… EVER

  2. A preoccupation with external appearances is sometimes used to hide something unattractive on the inside

  3. The closest we come to immortality is the positive legacy we are remembered by

  4. Those things that make us different, make us better

  5. All good things go bad eventually

  6. Do not moon cars in your own neighborhood

  7. Never eat in a restaurant where the cooks are laughing hysterically

  8. No matter how small the detail, never compromise yourself for love’s sake

  9. Sometimes, what seems like an insignificant decision can become a life changing event

 

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