The girl of my past despised smoke – the smell of it, the health risks, the appearance. If she was around it too much, it gave her headaches. If a man told her that he smoked, she immediately found him to be unattractive.
This apparently excluded Xavier, who replaced this girl of the past with me. I remember X telling me that he didn’t smoke often. Though his mother smoked a pack of Newport a day, and he did start at a young age, he had stopped smoking for months. Instead, he told me that he smoked marijuana.
Now, when I began to question my faith, I also began to rethink my previous repugnance. I became open-minded, and this is what I told him when he offered to explain why marijuana is not as bad as cigarettes… and what the substance did for him. Suddenly, I wasn’t so opposed to it.
Maybe a month after I eradicated my celibacy, I was visiting Xavier at his house and again, he’d decided to show me his ideals in person. I remember the day being a Saturday – not too long after he’d gotten his car and his mother had left the house for a few hours. We’d just finished consummating and my hair was completely unkempt. I threw on his shirt (which was stylish though huge on me) and afterwards, he expressed that he wanted to show me something.
A tiny bag accompanied by the smell of skunk – he’d bought it the day before.
How can I describe what I felt? Scared, yet curious. Enticed by his previous descriptions, yet conscious of what exactly he held in his hand. A narcotic! I knew I would’ve gotten into a truck-load of trouble. But it was him… and somehow, I felt thoroughly safe.
And Xavier never pressured me; I can give him that. He said that he was going to smoke it and all he wanted was for me to come along. Where? For the ride, I guess. So, dressed exactly as I was – no bra, no footwear, hair a mess – and he in a similar fashion, we hopped into his car and drove. I remember feeling so self-conscious because people were looking at me as we passed and I didn’t exactly look righteous – if you will… But he noticed my discomfort next to him. A stroke to my head and a grasp of my hand and it was me and him against the world.
The drive was short and his area is very rural, almost agricultural. So there is plenty of trees and vegetation. He parked just outside of the woods when he pulled out a tiny, red pipe (that I later gave the name “Lil’ red”.) When we stepped out of the car and my toes touched the gravel, I flinched only a second. Peeking at Xavier’s feet, I thought about what we were doing… It was the first of what I knew would be many adventures and I was not about to miss it.
Xavier led me through the leaf/stick/pebble covered terrain, wading between trees and dodging bugs. It took us a few minutes to reach the edge of a clearing with what seemed to be a broken down tower in the distance. I crouched down on to a log to rest my feet while he opened the tiny bag, filled Lil’ Red and inhaled. I watched him, his back turned to me, his black shirt lightened by the sun’s rays breaking through the branches above us. He sighed with his exhale and I watched as he lifted his head to release, the smoke floating and dissipating against the light.
On the next pull, X glanced in my direction and sensed me watching in wonder. So he held it, turned to bend down and pressed his lips to mine… I willfully opened up to him and his breath, inhaling what felt like more than second-hand smoke. Oh, it felt like a spiritual form of slow and intimate intercourse. In the next few seconds, I was pulling from Lil’ Red myself. I coughed and spat, but he kissed me anyway with a “That’s okay… That’s normal.” We drove back to his house, on cloud nine to enjoy each other in a whole new quintessence.
Smoking together became a habit. Eventually, I would be invited to smoke with his friends. I would accompany him to buy and drop off to multiple people. I would learn how to grind, measure and roll for myself. I would turn into an entirely different girl… His girl.
Of course, Xavier didn’t completely quit cigarettes as he led me to believe in the beginning. Sooner or later he began to smoke that as well. I started off by asking him not do it in front of me, and so he would stay in one room or go upstairs or outside. Then I got tired of his leaving to smoke every time we finished coition. I tolerated, got used to it.
Marijuana became something I enjoyed outside of Xavier’s company. The drug is actually how I came to meet a few of my current good friends – including Q. About halfway through our relationship, I think Xavier had an epiphany and switched to only smoking cigarettes. But I didn’t. I have so many good moments with smoking that don’t include Xavier, I wonder if I was going to start the habit regardless… (I wonder if he started up again with his new girl, Kala…)
I cannot recall how I started smoking cigarettes. I just know that Xavier had tried a different pack, Marlboro, and though he didn’t like them (he preferred Newport Golds) I favored the simple, feeble taste. I can still see X, our friend, Chapo, and I smoking and talking on a beautiful afternoon at the park ten minutes from his house. There were a few times that I shared a black and mild with X, on the rare occasions he bought them. Looking back on it now, it all felt so natural. I picture myself in those moments, with a ring on my finger thinking, This is my life now.,.. This is who I am.
Don’t fret. Since relocating, I haven’t touched the stuff. I do miss the sensation it brought, but it could ruin my career. And I think my friends understand that. We’ll see when I return to them in a few weeks. Decisions like that always permeate friendships and filter out the foes.
To be continued (again)…
AUTHOR’S NOTE: To clarify the me you’re reading about, I never completely approved of cigarettes. I only smoked them when Xavier did and I will never do it again. Personally, I’d rather people smoke marijuana in comparison to cigarettes, and that’s only because I compare them on a health scale. However, do not confuse my opinion with what is right and what is wrong. If it is illegal or unhealthy, you shouldn’t be doing it. But it’s my diary, so to each his own, I guess.