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Two Years With a Weed Addict

Yes, there is such a thing

In his online dating profile, he described himself as “quirky”, and his photos confirmed this self-assessment. He was educated, and had no spelling or grammatical errors in his profile — a rarity in the online dating world. He was cute, and had fun hobbies.

We met at a bar by my place. He was a little late, and I was halfway through my first beer when he arrived — looking a bit scruffier than I expected. Perusing the dozens of beer taps, he inquired about the one that had 420 on it. They were out of that kind, so he settled on something else.

He randomly bounced from one subject to the next. And I was right about him being smart, as he seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of many things. I was intrigued. Second beers were ordered, after which we headed out for a bite to eat.

He was charming and sexy. Despite his occasional forgetfulness and propensity to be late, I was falling for him. Within a month, we were exchanging “ I love you”s.

We didn’t spend a lot of time together, since we both had busy schedules. When we did a have a date, he would always smoke a little pot, which was no big deal. I would sometimes have a little, but I’m a lightweight, and can barely function when I’m stoned. I do like to have a couple beers though. He didn’t drink at all, and those two beers on our first date were the only ones he’d had in years.

A fter about 6 weeks, we planned to go away for the weekend. I was looking forward to spending some quality time together. We hadn’t had an entire weekend together yet.

The destination was a couple hours away. As he drove, he would take hits off his vaping device from time to time. He was a good driver, and I couldn’t tell the difference between how he acted, or drove, when he was stoned, or not.

It was his birthday, so I wasn’t going to question his imbibing. We were celebrating! We got settled into the room, and he brought along a whole array of vaping paraphernalia. He not only smoked weed, or flower, but he did dabs, which is a concentrated cannabis extract, called wax (or shatter, or oil, or all kinds of other names).

Now, to smoke this dab stuff, it requires a rig and a blowtorch. Yeah, a blowtorch. You heat up the glass element, add the “wax” to the glowing-hot bowl, then inhale. It’s pretty freaky to the first-time observer, let me tell ya.

But it’s just pot. A different kind of pot, but no big whoop, right?

We had a fun night. When we got up the next morning, he immediately did some dabs. That shit is strong, and he did like five of them. Wow. Then off to breakfast we went!

He had the portable vaping device on him at all times, and would periodically (several times an hour) take a few tokes.

We had a good time that weekend. A few weeks later I inquired about his dabbing, particularly first thing in the morning, and he laughed it off saying he was celebrating his birthday that weekend, so may have smoked more than normal. Plus, he said he had just recently discovered dabbing (as opposed to regular weed), so he was having fun experimenting with that.

But the thing is, when he would stay overnight at my house, maybe one night a week, I would hear him firing up the torch, then the post-dab coughing — sometimes in the middle of the night, and always early in the morning. But hey, it’s the weekend!

He had a good job, but his employment history was spotty — including lots of year-long stints, and one longer stretch of unemployment. But he seemed solidly employed now.

We didn’t go out for fancy meals — not his thing. But we ate decent stuff, and usually at places where the food comes out fast. He didn’t like waiting, especially for dinner. It’s just kinda one of those things I had to accept about him.

He had a temper, and sometimes flew off the handle at things that were not that big of a deal. This was a problem. I would try to talk him out of whatever he was so mad about, but that would make it worse. I didn’t understand how a guy who was stoned all the time could be so angry.

But then five minutes later he’d be totally back to normal — stoned and jovial.

It had been three months, and I still had never been to his house. He was apprehensive about having me over, because he said it was too messy.

But it was time.

Um, it was awful, like hoarder awful. I was shocked, and he cried. We both cried. He promised to make it better, and clean it up. I said OK.

He had three cats. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just sayin’.

He had no money and was in debt, despite having a good job, and now I could see why. A lot of the clutter in his house was good and valuable stuff — he wasn’t collecting coffee cans and cardboard boxes. He had electronics, camera equipment, guitars (17), and all kinds of expensive things. Oh, and lots of vaping devices.

Well, all that, plus the cost of the weed and dabs and state-of-the-art vaping devices took a good chunk of his paycheck.

I wasn’t going to go back to his house until it was cleaned up. This was becoming a problem, too, since he would just want to go home after work, and I certainly wasn’t going to hang out there. He wanted to retreat to where he was comfortable, to get stoned and hang out with his cats and watch TV.

W hat in the Hell did you see in this guy, you’re asking.

Well, on a shallow level, he was so attractive to me physically — a beautiful specimen of a man — and our intimate relationship was good.

On a deeper level, he was a devoted and caring person who had lifelong friends who loved him, and whom he loved. He had a good relationship with ex-girlfriends and old coworkers. He was a likeable guy, and would be the person to lean on in troubling times. He was friend and confidant to many.

He had a good heart, albeit the maturity level of a 13-year-old (the age he started smoking pot).

He was an animal lover, and my dog adored him.

But yeah, he was a fuck-up. Not a loser, but a fuck up.

And I loved him. Despite his, well, quirkiness.

I didn’t go back to his house for another six months, at which point things were only marginally better. And I think he did the bulk of the cleaning up the day before I came back for “re-inspection”.

And for six months, that was his excuse to not see me on Sundays, or earlier on a Saturday — because he had to clean. But I knew he was just getting stoned and sleeping the day away, or watching TV, or watching porn. Egads.

Now this is a guy who claimed to love me like he’d loved no other. He was done looking, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. But he just wasn’t particularly interested in hanging out with me. It was like we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, why do we have to spend time together? Oy.

But he had plenty of time to hang out at his dealer’s house (an hour away), for several hours on a random weeknight. I do think he spent more time with his dealer than with me.

I tried to change him. And we all know how that works out. I went to Al-Anon. I went to a shrink for the first time in my life.

Oh, and did I mention we are no spring chickens? He was 55 when we met, and I was 53. I reckon nobody changes much at that age. And you’d think I’d know this at my advanced age, but nooo.

A nyway, we argued a lot. Mostly about him squandering our time together, or him showing up so stoned he was slurring his words. Or lying. Little white lies mostly, but lies just the same. I started questioning everything he told me.

He’d forget entire conversations we’d had just hours earlier. I told him we needed to start wearing police cameras to record all our conversations, since he would deny saying things that he just said. Crazymaking shit.

Our biggest argument was on our first Valentine’s Day together. Sparing y’all the details, suffice to say it was ugly, and he called me all kinds of horrible things. Pointing his finger at me while berating me, I just sat there and took it.

I should’ve broken up with him right then and there, but we had this trip planned (I know, silly reason to stay with an abusive addict), and it was non-refundable. I guess I really wanted to go to Paris and Amsterdam.

He brought a good supply of dabs with him on the plane (he researched how to do this and get through security), and slept during the entire flight (since he was as stoned as humanly possible upon boarding).

When we got to our room in Paris, he immediately went to imbibe and his vaping device was not working and he went insane. I was witnessing an addict needing a fix. He was yelling and throwing things and almost crying. Until he got the thing to work, then all was good. Ahhh.

I don’t think he had gone that long without getting stoned for goodness knows how long, I mean, it had been at least 14 hours since his last toke.

Minutes later we were taking a smiling selfie of the two of us by the Eiffel Tower to post on Facebook. We did look damn good together, I will say that.

By the time we got to Amsterdam, everything was hunky-dory, for obvious reasons. He had all the “coffee shops” mapped out, as this was his part of the vacation. Stoned 24/7, not that that was anything unusual.

We survived the trip.

B ack home things went back to normal. We talked about living together. But we’d have to get a new place, and I’d have to buy it (he’d pay rent). We were looking at a house in the suburbs.

He wanted to get married before we moved in, because, he reasoned, it would be harder to kick him out if we married. Sign me up for some of that. Not.

I told a friend — a very good, and smart friend — of the plan. She knew everything about me, and the relationship. She told me that I would be suicidal within six months if I moved in with him. And I knew she was right. So I didn’t.

Things got ugly after I pulled the plug on that. We’d break up and get back together. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I was conflicted — or maybe just afraid of being alone. Maybe I loved him. Maybe I still thought there was hope, and that he’d get it and change.

But it was wrong of me to ever expect him to change.

You see, he was more than just a stoner. He was an addict. He would rationalize that it was just pot, but it ruled his life — the procurement of, the partaking of, and the consequences of. Emphasis on that last part. Everything in his life revolved around getting stoned, and everything in his life was negatively affected by his habit.

The very end came on Thanksgiving Day in a fireball of an argument, where he almost killed both of us, as he drove like a madman while screaming and yelling at me. It was awful.

And it was over.

He made some really feeble attempts to contact me after a few weeks, but it wasn’t enough. After a few months he reached out to tell me he got fired from his job. I felt bad for him, and we talked.

I suppose now I’m another of his ex-girlfriends who he’s friends with. He gets the girl, or gets the job, but he ultimately messes up both of them because of the weed. Because of the addiction.

And don’t let anyone tell you it’s not an addiction. Especially the addict.

The craziest thing is, sometimes I still miss him. I suppose I have my own addiction — I’m addicted to addicts.

That, my friends, is what I struggle with. But I’m working on it.

In his online dating profile, he described himself as “quirky”, and his photos confirmed this self-assessment. He was educated, and had no spelling or grammatical errors in his profile — a rarity in…

Why Couples Are Turning to Marijuana for Happy and Healthy Relationships

This article originally appeared on KINDLAND

Harvard’s Grant and Glueck study has tracked the physical and emotional well-being of groups of men over 75 years. The research showed something maybe obvious and interesting: Good and healthy relationships are the key to happiness.

What does it take to have a healthy and happy relationship? Many factors go into keeping a relationship thriving, but with the mass legalization of cannabis and couples’ access to weedy products, it seems that pot could me a major key to relationship bliss.

If you aren’t down on the weed-love train yet, you might want to give it a go. Informal KINDLAND research indicates that people who are consuming cannabis swear that it makes their relationships happier, stronger, and healthier than without it. Here’s how:

You’ll have better sex.

Studies have shown that marijuana can heighten sexual pleasure, and who doesn’t want that, right? Great sex is a great indicator of a great relationship. Why not try it out, or at least get your hands dirty on some of those cannabis pleasure products?

And smoke a J together after sex if you want to keep your intimate senses heightened and/or feel the ultimate post-load relaxation. If the whole point of sex with your best lover is to make you feel wonderful, keep that feeling going. Hey, extending feelings of intimate bonding will only make you happier, and, well, healthier.

(Photo via The KINDLAND)

“The only reason I smoke weed is so I can have sex with my boyfriend. It blows my mind.” —Anonymous on Whisper

“Weed is a HUGE factor in relationships, for me at least. I recently began dating a woman who is as down as I am, if not more-so, with weed. Aside from being a shared interest, smoking together has been a way to spend quality time, we’ve totally worked it into our sex life, which was tight. And if we’re in an argument, and one of us starts to smoke something, the fight usually ends pretty quickly. Whereas previous girlfriends have been less down with my weed habit, and it’s even been a source of disagreement.” —Ben Karris, 27, KINDLAND Editor

You’ll fight less.

Smoking weed helps people forget about the small stuff, and it’s a lot easier not to sweat the little things that might, if sweated, cause you to pick a fight. Weed’s anti-anxiety properties can be key in allowing couples to focus on what matters: Having fun together.

“If my partner is having a stressful day and he smokes just the right amount, he’s able to unwind and enjoy some chill, quality time with me. Even if that means we are watching a movie or taking a long stroll, he’s not thinking about work, or traffic, or money—he’s thinking about me and the thing we are doing in the moment, and it’s great.” —Crissy, 32, KINDLAND Managing Editor

“Weed has been the single most helpful element in my relationship. We’re getting married soon, because we both love to get high and no longer sweat the small stuff. Cannabis treats my PTSD, and his anxiety. Together we open up and get through obstacles with communication and honesty—sometimes weird, loquacious honesty. The fact that we consume cannabis and not alcohol (not to knock it, but I’m knocking it) is really the clincher. Alcohol takes you out of yourself and makes you act like someone else. Weed takes you into a journey through your own mind where you find how you really feel. If we’re bitchy, we have a sesh. If we are stuck in sex patterns, we smoke and make love for hours, until he says things like, “I feel like I’m breathing through you.” It’s truly magical. We’re connected like molecules, constantly moving forward and working together to stay sane, happy, and honest. Weed is love, and it is most certainly the thing that keeps us tied together so strongly.” —Adrienne, 32, Cannabis Activist and Writer

You’ll enjoy your time together.

You can snuggle in a cozy hotbox zone. You can eat edibles and watch bad movies on your couch. You can have amazing sex. You can hotbox your mom’s car and not get caught. You can be each other’s spirit animals. You can worry less. You can simply relax enough to enjoy pure happiness together. And that might just make both of you a lot happier and better to be around. Thanks, weed!

(Photo via The KINDLAND)

“My boyfriend and I smoke together on the daily. Our relationship is solid as a rock, and I’ve never experienced this kind of love. Smoke together, stay together.” —Anonymous on Whisper

You might be more active.

Sure, typical old-school-stoner logic says smoking weed will knock you on your ass, but did you know that now, there are so many different (and totally available) strains and products that can make you more focused and even more energetic? Plus, if you ditch the nightly wine for a joint, you won’t wake up pissy, and groggy, and hungover. Think of how much more cool shit you and your partner could do if you were living a hangover-free life? Yeah, that’s a lot of stuff.

You’ll make a deeper connection.

Couples who use cannabis in their everyday life swear their lives are a lot easier and better. That’s because marijuana is proven to activate your endocannabinoid system, which controls your appetite, pain-sensation, mood, and memory. If you find your perfect product or dose, weed can really help you connect with your partner using all of your senses.

“Currently single, but I definitely had to initiate a ‘no smoking/consuming during a break up’ years ago. I kept finding myself far too happy/calm when interacting with my ex and later revisited interactions and realized I should’ve been outraged rather than nonchalant. I suppose cannabis helps relationships. It can give you that perfect amount of f*cks to give. For me, that tends to be 0 with the right strain. I’ve also noticed certain strains can up your touchy-feely factor, which definitely helps lubricate any romantic situation. I will say, though, that the wrong variety will make me want to slap my best friend; so there’s that if that’s your thing.” —Sunshine Lencho, Lawyer and Cannabis Activist

KINDLAND is a digital publication for lovers of good weed and great stories. We (literally) eat, sleep, and breathe cannabis. And write about it, too.

Why Couples Are Turning to Marijuana for Happy and Healthy Relationships This article originally appeared on KINDLAND Harvard’s Grant and Glueck study has tracked the physical and emotional