If I knew then… (part 2)


Rick's house, at a party.

So I’m living in Richmond, now working at the gay bar and holding down a full time job. Most of my friends from the bar are older guys, but I’m cool with that. In my narcissistic mind, they all want me because I’m young and skinny. They buy me drinks, which is cool because I spent all of my own money on drugs I’m doing in the bathroom. Keep in mind I don’t have any regrets, but definitely looking back I was making some wrong choices. At this period, I’m mostly doing coke and pills. I had moved out of my friends house and into a place I shared with a straight guy I worked with. He was cool that I was gay and had a girlfriend, but damn, he was hot. He introduced me to acid. I had heard of it of course, but had never tried it. Once I did though, I was hooked.  I fucking loved it. I could make things happen in my mind, even though it wasn’t real. My life consisted of waiting tables all day, bar backing and deejaying at night, then partying until dawn.
Looking back, I probably should have stayed off of the hallucinogenic drugs, but I sadly think this is when I really found myself. Drugs for me have always made me think. I always preferred uppers to downers so I could have an entire thought conversation with myself in my head in the time most people were deciding what their drink order is.  At least that was my perception. 
I started getting a bit more “out there”. I was being risqué at the bar, had trouble keeping my clothes on once I started drinking on top of all the drugs. I quit one job waiting tables and started a new one when a new restaurant opened. There I met a whole new group of friends. I also at the new job met someone that I fell in love with and that changed my life.
I am not a shy person, by any means, and while partying with my new friends one night, decided I was going to make a move on the crush I had at work. I honestly didn’t know if he was even gay, but I didn’t care. We were at a house party one night after work. The drinks were flowing, I was on drugs, there was weed (I was not really a huge stoner, but would smoke if someone was offering). In the wee hours of morning, I made my move. He and I were the only two that hadn’t hooked up and left or were still conscious. I started with innocent touching his leg, then the blunt, drugged, drunk me just told him I wanted to fuck. He went along with it.  After that night, I was into only him, he seemed distant at first, but then kept coming back for more. We were together every day. I fell in love with him. Hard. A few months later, he broke my heart.
I fell into a deep depression. I was still doing drugs, still drinking, but I spent my evenings alone when I wasn’t working. I thought a lot, became very distant from people. I was broken hearted, and it was during this time that I learned to love myself. I realized I didn’t need to be around others to be happy and have fun.
On the eve of my twenty-second birthday, I through caution to the wind and went out to have a rip roaring blow-out bash. I was on a LOT of drugs, I drank a lot, probably even had some promiscuous sex. I don’t really remember a lot of the evening, but when I work up the next afternoon on my actual birthday, I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t recognize the man standing before me. Dark circles under my eyes, painfully thin, pale as I rarely saw the sun, and alone and lonely (a bitter combination). I vowed to never do drugs again, and checked into a rehab program, unbeknownst to anyone at the time. I was ashamed of who I had become. I’ve often found it amusing that I was so full of life, so outgoing and had such a devil may care attitude, then suddenly over night, I was ashamed.
I learned, during the sobering up period, that I shouldn’t be ashamed. I needed to embrace that part of my past and learn from it. And I have. I have stated it before, but it  bares repeating here that I have no regrets in my life. I learned a lot about myself during the “drug years”. Who of was, who I could be, what I was capable of, and most importantly, what I really wanted out of life.
To date I have been sober from drugs fifteen and a half years, or 5,625 days. I’ll admit I have smoked some pot, and taken the occasional pain pill for recreational purposes, but nothing harder than that. And in the past five years, nothing.
But on with my tale.
I met Jeremy, a bit after. We dated for two years. One happily, and one not so happy. After which, we decided we were better off friends. We ended up living together and being best friends for years. We are still friends to this day, though we go months without speaking.
Shortly after our break up, I met Mat. He was young, barely 18. We dated for while, and ended up living together (with Jeremy). We split up because in the end, I couldn’t deal with his immaturity. I also dated Chris, a feisty red head. I couldn’t deal with his attitude, and that went south too.
When I was 28, I met Tim. We had talked online for a few years, but hadn’t actually met. We finally met and have been together since. Nearly ten years of being together and there have been hiccups, but what relationship doesn’t.  I’ll save any details there for any future blogs, have to keep some mystery.
But looking back on life, if only had known then what I know now, I often wonder what I’d do differently if anything. I might not have ruined my credit, but then I don’t know that I would work as hard for what I have now. I might not have done as many drugs,  but I wouldn’t have come to self realizations about myself. I might not have been such a man whore, but I wouldn’t know what I like and met some of the people that I know. Oh might have actually dated some of my exes, but I wouldn’t know what it means to be in a relationship that fulfills both parties’ needs. I might not have stayed in the closet as long as I did, but I might have lost people out of my life it had new people enter in a time they weren’t ready to depart/arrive. I might have been smarter to figure out life’s lessons without going through what other did, but experience really is the best teacher.
I have no regrets in life. If I had my life to live over, it would probably turn out the same.


  1. Carol · April 15, 2015

    My moms like to say that they had to go through everything they did in order to be who — and where — they are today, which they wouldn’t change for anything in the world. Thanks for sharing your story! ~ Carol


    • jasinrockgod · April 15, 2015

      I totally agree. Life’s difficult journeys take us down hard paths, but you get to see a lot of scenery and learn from it.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: All By Myself | Jason's Opinion

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