Misery loves company (and blow)

A truly pathetic state of being is when two people symbiotically feed off of each other's depression. The sidekick is hurt because our fundamental needs are radically different, I am hurt because Sidekick is hurt, he blames himself for hurting me, and we ultimately compromise our personal convictions in an attempt to keep the other happy. Ugh...

We’ve both been out of sorts recently, and I’ve been looking for something that will help us kick things back into high gear. I told him that I wanted to try something new and exciting - an invigorating morning hike, a cooking class, contra dancing...something! Always the alterna-girlfriend, I of course settled on cocaine.

I am not a hard drug user. I smoke pot to stay centered and sane, I have a drink once or twice a week, and I enjoy my morning cup of coffee. I was made in the 80s, but I was too young to appreciate the Great Reign of Blow that befell a decade otherwise noted for its “flock of seagulls” haircuts and turquoise windbreakers.

SK’s estimation was that I’d be disappointed.
“It’s not what you think it is,” he said. “You won’t stay up all night, you won’t tweak out, you’ll just get a buzz and maybe want to go dancing.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s good enough for me.”

He cut lines onto a Best of Leonard Cohen album and we rolled a 50 (stylish!).

I didn’t feel “bold, unstoppable, or ‘on top of the world.’” It was a comfortable buzz, something along the lines of an intense caffeine high (without the headache and overactive stomach acids). I didn’t want to go dancing. I was *more* than happy dancing right there in my room. I developed a renewed appreciation for Ladytron, played a competitive game of Taboo, and then retired to my computer to work on some intensely focused video editing until for the next five hours. I went to bed at 4:30am and slept like a baby in Hyperdrive.

I enjoyed myself, but I’m wary of anything that is both highly addictive and deceptively subtle. After some subpar rhinoplasty back in ‘04, I just can’t afford to fuck up my face.