Two years ago I was in my first "real" relationship, the kind where you move in together with the hope of living happily ever after, maybe adopt some pets and talk about marriage and all that wishful junk. I'd smoked a good bit in my day, was one of those stoner chicks in high school but made the mistake of moving on to harder things. By the time I fell in love and tried to build a life with this guy, I'd stopped traveling, kicked the drugs, and was sober on the whole (I don't think bud or drink count). I thought it was nice to meet someone that I could smoke out with, cook some dinner, cozy up in bed with, etc etc.

Man, was I wrong. This guy almost put me off of weed forever. At first it seemed pretty harmless...we'd go halves on whatever we bought, and his friends from work would come over and smoke with us, watch some telly, have fun. Pretty soon, though, I was the one buying all the time. I'm not stingy with my weed, but after a while it got annoying to see him blow all of his money going to bars and clubs, and then come back and take all of my stash to go smoke with some mysterious "friends." It got to the point where I stopped smoking entirely because I hated seeing what he was like when he smoked. Maybe it happens in all relationships, but eventually I got annoyed at hearing him tell the same Ali-G related jokes over and over, got tired of him being lazy and selfish in the sack, of him sneaking money out of my wallet in the mornings because he'd already spend his paycheck.

Not smoking weed had a bad effect on me, too--I became one of those crazy, hysterical girls, always calling to ask him where he was, demanding that he stop going out every night and spend time with me, telling him to stop getting high and get his life together. I hated being that girl. Weed always made me chill out and have perspective, but without it, I couldn't deal with him without getting pissed off and bitchy. After a year, he was getting pretty abusive and I caught him cheating a couple times and left him. I didn't think about him much after that, but one of the worst things I got out of that relationship was that I couldn't stand weed for the longest time. I just kept associating it with those bad times, and I assumed that all potheads were secretly cheating, wife-beating mofos who'd only date me to get smoked out all the time.

I got over it around a year ago (thank god), because of a friend of mine who insisted that it was all in my head. I've dated here and there, whenever I found a decent guy to smoke and chill out with, and it's been pretty good so far. I've pared it down to about an 8th a week now, just enough to be functional for work and school, but I definitely enjoy their company better when I'm high.

Yeah, anyway...hah, this was so pointless. sorry.
lemonhead Reviewed by lemonhead on . How I learned to stop worrying and love the bud Two years ago I was in my first "real" relationship, the kind where you move in together with the hope of living happily ever after, maybe adopt some pets and talk about marriage and all that wishful junk. I'd smoked a good bit in my day, was one of those stoner chicks in high school but made the mistake of moving on to harder things. By the time I fell in love and tried to build a life with this guy, I'd stopped traveling, kicked the drugs, and was sober on the whole (I don't think bud or Rating: 5