True Story: I Married a Weed Head Part 2



By Angela Perry


He quit. For anyone who read part 1 of this story you know that things were getting bumpier than the Democrat’s road to take back the Senate. But he quit. It took basically alienating myself from him and ultimately deciding that I was just going to leave him alone. Meaning, I wasn’t going to get mad at him anymore for smoking. I came up with that because I felt that I was only hurting myself every time I got mad, while he continued on. Now it didn’t mean that I was going to smoke myself, because I quit. It also didn’t mean that I was going to sit with him while he smoked. I had shit to do. But he stopped; and while I'd like to think that it had something to do with me, I can't take that credit. So how did he quit?

True Story: I Married a Weed Head.



By Angela Perry

Let me start by saying that I didn’t know that I was marrying a weed head. Well, I kinda did. I found out that he was a closeted daily weed smoker after we’d already been dating a year. I was already in love with him so it wasn’t a reason for me not to get married. One day, he confessed that he’d been smoking weed every day since before we met and didn’t tell me because he didn’t think that I’d be cool with it. Damn straight, an occasional smoker myself, I wouldn’t have signed up to be with a heavy smoker. My father, who I never lived with and barely had a relationship with, had substance abuse issues so men struggling with drug issues was not my thing. I even went to a narcotics anonymous meeting once with a friend years ago and they warned me of the danger of falling for a man I could save. Classic, co-dependent, child of a substance abuser shit.

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