Eleven

-11-

“Let’s Get High”

I can sputter on about how great it was to have a girlfriend, but I won’t. The days dragged on into weeks and the weeks into months, yet it had captured this perfect relationship as a fractured green bottle. This thing that I thought I had, this companionship, was in fact a refracted shard of glass that to me was a complete bottle. I was a classic fool; too numb and too blind to truly enjoy what I had. That’s the problem associated with me across time. I search so much for deeper and meaningful experiences that I can hardly scratch the surface. I’m surrounded by rock and grass when I think that I’m knee deep in roots and history. It was the bane of my existence then and still haunts me to this day.

Sarah was the first girl I truly felt connected to. And the sex was great. In fact, the first two months of our relationship were spent screwing like rabbits. We weren’t even dating yet, but when the weekend rolled around, we spent them drinking and having sex. Throw in some weeknights as well and my life was complete. For a man that had always taken pride in finding the perfect girl and toiling in silence, what I had with Sarah was completely different. I was perfectly content with seeing her for short romps (and they were. It was unfixable problem that I’ve never cured) and spending the rest of my free time with my friends.

In fact, it was Sarah that first brought up the idea of us officially dating. The question caught me off guard. You see, Sarah and I weren’t exactly the most compatible of a couple, if judged on by an outsider. Sure, we had certain similarities and shared certain beliefs, but there were a lot of differences. Or maybe that’s just me looking back at it now. The first difference was the one of sexual experience. Or even sexual prowess, for that matter. Thought I was a man that was constantly and easily aroused, I was never fully able to translate that into charm. I mean I had no charm of any kind. At one point, I was a shy and respectable man that was afraid of rejection. I would not push the issue if I felt the end answer would be a no. Turns out though that I couldn’t, and still can’t, read women. As I’ve been told by more than a few women in the recent past, “Aggressiveness can be a good thing.”

Sarah felt exactly that way. Our sex life clicked so well at first because she wanted it all of the time. I was eager to give it to her. More than eager to a definite fault. Sarah was younger than me, but she had about five years of sexual experience on me. She showed me some things. Boy did she ever! I’ll spare you the details here, because, well, simply because I’m not spinning that kind of tale here. Bottom line, in those first few months, our sex life was amazing.

The other difference that was outright glaring was Sarah’s love of drugs. It was more specifically a love of marijuana that caused quite a rift between us at times. I had dabbled with the stuff, but it was nothing I certainly depended on. I had smoked with Christopher in the past, but nothing too intense. Mostly I did it now so that I could fit in with her friends. Like everything else in my life, I had no real beliefs of my own nor a backbone to say no. So I did it. More than anything else, I only wanted to fit in. Now, those could have been the same reasons that Sarah smoked, but I certainly didn’t see it that way. She smoked pretty much every day. It seriously was at a point where we couldn’t go to a movie or even just watch television without her toking up. It really irritated me at times because I didn’t see why she couldn’t have fun without the stuff. Mostly I got down on myself. In my mind, I was boring and she needed the green to tolerate me and make me believable as an enjoyable person. Ah, insecurities.

School kind of disappeared for me after Christmas. In a sense, I had forgotten that school was the reason I was in town. I still went, occasionally, but in true fashion my grades only dipped slightly. Truth be told, beer, friends, and sex were far more important to me then anything I could learn from John Locke (He’s an English Philosopher, not a character on Lost. Look him up). The fun I was having far outweighed the ideas of my Geology teacher. Weeknights were spent drinking and weekends were spent drinking even harder. College experts warned parents about binge drinking, but these experts really had no idea. My group of friends would have fit into another group of drinker’s altogether. I’d use the term functioning, but for many of us, that really wasn’t true. That label would be an unjust one to give out. For many of us, this was the semester that undid everything. Or at least the first signs of destruction were certainly present.

Of course, it had its roots with beer. This simply carried over into something that was much more than the partaking in the usual hops and barley. It was a night that had started innocently enough. Good drinks, good times, good buds; as the proverb goes. Okay, proverb maybe not, but a nice little saying nonetheless. Eric, who had recently turned 21, myself, and a few friends were at our favorite bar, a placed called “The Station”. It was a small little bar, one frequented by lonely old drunks, loose women, and artists who were just entering their pre-hipster phase. We did not fit into any of these categories, as we were just a group of dudes looking to have a good time at a quiet place with cheap liquor prices.

As the night wore on and the alcohol took its full effect, our loud, boisterous crowd filtered out. Eric and I had remained, along with our new friend Ken. Ken was a wild card, a man that was the spitting image of a young Jack Nicholson. The man never met a challenge he did not like and was never afraid to back down from a long night of drinking or partying. The man was cut from the same animal magnetism that spawned Marlon Brando and James Dean. To fit the cliché perfectly, Ken often arrived places on his motorcycle. The man had the cool guy act down to a ‘T’.

As it was, Ken put down his fair share of whiskey that night. I’m not talking whiskey mixed with coke, either. I’m talking down the gullet, straight and smooth, whiskey. The man could drink and in the tradition of Eric, did not want the fun to stop. The two had that basic connection and I was simply along for the ride. Despite being tired and only wanting to slip away to Sarah, I was easily convinced to join the after party. Closing time was near and Ken had suggested a night of fun at this apartment. Conveniently the apartment was located on the top floor of the building in which The Station was housed. How could I possibly say no when the fun was located so utterly close?

The three of us crammed ourselves into the small elevator and made the quick ride to the top floor. We stumbled to Ken’s apartment door. Ken fumbled with his keys for a minute and eventually let us in to his domain. The entire time Ken did not stop talking. He was a bundle of energy and spoke of everything from drugs to Nietzsche, from sports to fucking girls, and so on. He flipped on a light in the apartment and did not even bother with a tour. Ken sat us down on his leather couches. With his mind racing from point to point, Ken did not have time to take a seat. As Eric and I sat down, Ken disappeared into the kitchen.

Shy as ever, I said my first words in over a half hour. “I gotta go soon,” I said to Eric.

“Fuck that. You’re not leaving me alone with him,” snapped back Eric quickly.

Before I could even begin an argument back, Ken reappeared with three beers. He handed one each to Eric and I and then walked over to the window that overlooked the street.

“Check this out,” he said to no one in particular.

Both Eric and I hopped from our seats and went to the window. Down below, I could see the bars emptying into the street and the people in a drunken stupor searching for their cars. Ken, true to his style, threw open the window and a cool breeze hit our faces. And then it happened; Ken let loose a barrage of obscenities on the unsuspecting crowds below. He let out every curse word known to man. It put Tourette's to shame. To Ken, this was very freeing. He let out a deep sigh when he was done and smiled. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

I politely declined, but Eric stepped right up to the plate. He passed on the straight curse words, but instead targeted a couple that was obviously not made for each other, at least physically. “Hey douchebag, she’ll never blow you,” screamed Eric at the top of his lungs. “Go find someone fatter.”

The man simply flipped Eric off. Eric continued to yell, this time his words directed at the girl. “Hey baby, how much cost!”

The girl did not respond, which egged Eric on even more. “That’s right, walk away dumb bitch. Good luck with his tiny penis!”

Eric and Ken laughed hysterically at this. I chimed in with a small chuckle as I was obviously not drunk enough to fully enjoy all of this. Ken shut the window and took a long drink from his beer. I’m pretty sure most of it dribbled down his shirt, but I wasn’t one to judge. Ken wiped his lips. “I’ve got something for you guys.”

At this point, I had sat back down on the couch. Ken plopped onto the leather right next to me. He sat his beer down on the glass table. Eric joined us on the couch just as Ken was reaching for the cigar box that was sitting on the table. Being the boyfriend of quintessential smoker, my guess was it was weed that was in the box. I was dead wrong.

Ken opened the box. Straight faced, he threw up the lid with reckless abandon. “Gentleman, I give you cocaine.”

My heart froze. I did not expect this nor did I want to partake. At the same time, being the follower I perceived myself to be, I felt that I needed to do it. Nobody wants to be a pussy amongst their friends. These were the thoughts that raced through my head as Ken dumped a bit of the powder on the table. He begin to cut the powder right there. Ken was going to do this with or without us. It was all happening so quickly and fear was getting the best of me. I quietly chugged my beer as fast as I could and could see Eric doing the same. Perhaps we were on the same page on this one.

Wiping the leftover beer off of my lips, I announced, “I’m gonna head. I have a lady waiting for me.”

As I waited for Eric to follow suit, Ken continued to ready the drug. He did not even acknowledge my statement. Then Eric shocked me. “I’m in.”

Eric had been in the same boat I was with the drug situation. He had smoked pot occasionally, but nothing else. Though I thought he would leave with me, the answer from him about staying only mildly surprised me. “Are you sure,” I asked.

“Yeah, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There would be no argument from me. I said good-bye to the both of them and thanked Ken for the beer. I walked out the door as the two embarked on the night of fun. I choose to walk down the stairs rather then ride the elevator alone. As I made the lonely walk down the staircase, I wondered to myself if I’d ever have the balls to truly enjoy life.