What Are You On?
Roller skating provided me with my first long-term boyfriend. This excludes Bucky Johnson from seventh grade, who agreed to “go with me” on the last day of school – right before I moved and never saw him again.
Emmett was the real deal. He had long, wavy hair and deep brown eyes, and a voice even deeper than his eyes. He was also brilliant, which helped me sell this Catholic school boy to my parents.
I met Emmett at the rink but we started hanging out together at the new arcade, too. I excelled at Space Invaders. We’d play arcade games and then, since Emmett had a car, we’d head off to the local cemetery where I’d drink vodka from the bottle under Emmett’s seat, and he would smoke pot.
And then we’d make out. As was the case for many years, I put up with making out so that I could stay drunk as long as possible. At 16, I wasn’t interested in having sex; I wanted to wait for marriage. But one night there was no alcohol, so I smoked pot with him.
I wanted to understand the allure. Kids seemed to think marijuana was great but, after giving up pills in the tenth grade, I was adamantly against all drugs.
Still, drugs were easier to hide. My parents had busted me after drinking many times, so I thought it might be wise to switch to a less vomit-inducing alternative. So for several weeks, I smoked pot.
I hated pot. I hated smoking, which hurt my throat. I hated the way it made my head feel all fuzzy. I hated that it took away my ability to move my extremities when I wanted them to move. I hated everything about marijuana.
I felt like I was wasting my life, and sitting around in a dark cemetery smoking pot wasn’t my idea of a quality date. I really, truly despised this drug, so I quit. And it was easy to give up marijuana. I still went out with Emmett, and I still drank, but I no longer smoked. My anti-pot resolve lasted until long after I graduated from college.
I remember one especially awful evening when I came home, stone-cold sober because I’d quit smoking and Emmett couldn’t steal a bottle of liquor from his parents. My parents accosted me at the door. It was the first time in months that I’d gone out without consuming any alcohol or drugs.
“What are you on?” they queried. “We know you’re on something!”
“But I’m not!” I wailed. I couldn’t believe they chose this day to ask me about my drug use. I’d finally given up drugs, and now they wanted to know what I was doing? “I’m not doing anything!”
My parents didn’t believe me. I couldn’t convince them otherwise. But I couldn’t explain that I’d randomly given up marijuana in favor of underage drinking, either.
So I gave up on convincing them and just felt betrayed.
At about the same time, Emmett found another girl at the rink – a 14-year-old named Andi – who would have sex with him. So I felt betrayed by Emmett, too. All of my attempts to do the right thing were backfiring.
I started to think that maintaining a moral compass was my actual problem. Why continue trying to be good if I kept losing in the long run?