When I first started dating Kevin, we went through the typical
questions, “What’s your favorite color,” “When was your last
relationship,” “What’s your favorite drink?” The getting-to-know-you
phase of the relationship is honestly one of my favorites. There’s so
much excitement in discovering details about your partner’s life. As a
journalist, there’s satisfaction in gathering information on my
“subject” and using that information to scribe our love story in my
journals and repeat that story over and over in my mind.
However, when Kevin looked at me and answered, “I don’t drink,” a
little pebble hop-scotched its way down my esophagus and settled into
the pit of my gut.
“Recovering alcoholic?” I laughed, trying to make light of the moment.
“Not
exactly. I’ve been there, done that and I threw away my T-shirt,” Kevin
smiled, allowing the top left corner of his mouth to create a solitary
dimple on that side of his smile. God, I love that smile. He continued, “I don’t drink or smoke. My only real vice is football,” he shrugged.
That
same pebble from my gut jumped up and climbed its way up my throat and
choked me. I’ve been here before. A few years ago, I was dating a man
(Lawrence) who was on a straight and narrow path. Saint, he was not, but
he preferred not to drink and shunned smoking in all forms.
I have a confession–while I enjoy a good cocktail, puff-puff-passing has become one of my major vices. I detest cigarettes and cigarette-smokers and despite how much of a double
standard it sounds like; I roll a joint daily. I never allowed my habit
to control my life; it’s just been something to look forward to and it
helps erase my stress. But this isn’t about me justifying my vice. This
is about dating a man who rejects your vices.
When I was dating Lawrence, he assured me that my vices were not a
problem for him and they wouldn’t deter his feelings for me. He may as
well, chopped, seasoned and sauteed those words, because he certainly
ate them!
One night I was out with my friends and we decided to
smoke before heading out. Lawrence called while we were in the cab and
giddiness and of course marijuana smoke clouded my brain and my
judgment, so I invited him out with us, “Hey babe! Meet us at Le Poisson
Rouge!” I giggled before hanging up. I was excited for him to meet my
friends for the first time since we started dating. I didn’t even think
about being high around him; I just wanted to be around him. Quickly, I
put in eye drops, chewed gum vigorously and doused myself in perfume. My
friends looked at me sideways. “He doesn’t like the smell,” I lied.
We
hopped out of the cab and into line. Within 10 minutes, Lawrence showed
up, hugging me tight around the waist, then he leaned in to kiss me.
With a smile lingering on my lips, we separated, “You’ve been smoking,”
he said with venom in his tone.
My smile faded. Before I could
even introduce him to my friends, he started yelling about how he
couldn’t believe that I would have him around when I was “under the
influence” and I should be ashamed of myself for even asking him. I
stood there in an inebriated shock because as Lawrence verbally
chastised me, he pulled himself away from my grip and walked away. It
took about three weeks for him to speak to me again and when he did, he
confessed that he couldn’t date me anymore because the smoking and
drinking bothered him more than he thought it would.
So when Kevin
told me that he’s not a smoker or drinker, I knew there would be an
issue here. But just like Lawrence, Kevin assured me that there wouldn’t
be. “You’re not an addict,” Kevin stated, “But please don’t do it
around me.”
That was Kevin’s only request. I could easily oblige that. Or so I thought.
During one of our day dates, I had to tell Kevin that I would be
cutting out bit early to meet up with friends for dinner. During this
weekly dinner, my friends and I get high, play Wii, cook, eat, drink and
be merry. In order to not make the same mistake I made with Lawrence, I
told Kevin I could meet back up with him, but I chose not to partake in
the smoking or drinking.
When I arrived at my friend’s house, a
bottle of white was already slowly disappearing. I declined the first
three offers and once my homegirl asked if I’d joined AA, I decided the
buzz from a glass of wine or two would surely subside by the time I met
up with Kevin that night. So, I sipped along with them. And once the
joint started making its rotation, I said, “no thanks” until I couldn’t
anymore.
“Two puffs won’t hurt,” I smiled, taking the small joint in my thumb
and pointer finger. I exhaled. I thought about Kevin and I didn’t want
him to be disappointed in me or worse, leave me standing on the sidewalk
with my mouth open like Lawrence did. I passed what was left of the
joint and went to the bathroom to wash my hands, swish my mouth in
Listerine and squeeze Clear Eyes into my pupils. There I was again,
covering up something I enjoy, but something the man that I like, hates.
I looked myself directly in the eye, “This isn’t going to work.”
My
phone lit up with Kevin’s name and I knew he was downstairs. I had no
plans of ending it with Kevin, but I knew we wouldn’t work out. We
kissed. He pulled away and I thought, “Uh oh.” He smiled, “I missed
you.” I prepared to hear him accuse me of smoking and tell me it’s over.
Instead, he grabbed my hand and we continued walking.
“I know you
drank and smoke. I can’t control that. I asked you not to do it around
me and you haven’t, but I know when you’re not with me, you’re doing one
of the things I hate the most.” Keith stated out-of-the-blue, without
even looking at me.
He’d been thinking about my bad habits too. And he was right. I
decided the easiest way to date him and still keep my independent life
was to do the things he hated when he wasn’t around. That meant that I
wouldn’t be able get White-boy-wasted with Kevin and share a night of
reckless abandon. I also wouldn’t be able to share a joint with him and
discuss our philosophies of life. Personally, these are things that I
enjoy when I am dating someone.
“I’ve been thinking about that too. I like you. I want to be around
you, but my vices are parts of my life that I am not quitting, at least
not now…” I was starting to feel the words escaping my lips were going
to end up being tied up in bullsh*t, so I stopped short. Here I was,
dating someone who I had strong feelings for, but not strong enough for
me to give up my vices. The bottom line that kept scrolling through my
mind like a marquee was: Are you willing to give up on love before you
give up your vices?
There’s a million arguments I could make to continue dating Kevin or
to break up with him. I realize my vices are an addiction, wrapped up in
a fancy and concise word, but they’re mine. I hate creating a weight
of guilt to sit on my shoulders when I think about quitting my vices. I
shouldn’t feel guilty for indulging in something that alters my mind. I
could quit and I have before. I don’t get the shakes or cold sweats if I
stay away from weed or drinking. But I don’t want to be policed if I
decide on a Saturday morning that I want to wake and bake, go to brunch
and drink mimosas until I can’t feel my face.
Have you ever broken up with someone because they don’t share your vices? Share...
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