Post by Bill Hembree on Dec 2, 2011 7:44:15 GMT -8
Marijuana does more than heal.
I recently ran into a friend from long ago on facebook. It had been thirty-something years since I had seen her. I clicked into her page and checked her out. She looked happy and healthy, surrounded by people that love her.
I sent her a private message. “Hi Cathy, how have you been?”
Five minutes later, she messaged me back. “OMG, how did you know I had been on your page?”
“I didn’t,” I replied. “You look great.”
She wrote right back. “I look great, or I look great for my age?”
“You look amazing,” I said, “You always did, you always will.”
“You haven’t changed a bit.” She typed, followed by a smiley face.
Back and forth we went, “I was crazy for you,” I said. “Could you tell?”
“You were a perfect gentleman,” she replied.
And so the story goes; thirty-something years ago, Cathy and I ran into each other at a gas station near our home town. She had been crying and I knew her well enough to extend my friendship, asking if she would like to go for a drink.
An hour later and three drinks deep, I was lost in her aura, listening attentively to her boyfriend problems, supporting her cause, thinking what it would be like to kiss her.
Our attraction to one another was undeniable. Closing the gap between us, we inched together. “Where is your girlfriend,” she asked.
“I am not expected anywhere that I have to be.” I professed, hoping for the best.
“Me either,” she smiled, “My insignificant other is going out with his friends tonight... I’m on my own.”
Still, from our conversation, it was clear we were trying to work things out with our significant others, committed by insanity to people whose biggest problem was themselves.
“We could get a room,” I suggested. When she didn’t blink, I added, "I'm pretty sue they come with a bed.
Stopping at a liquor store, and going through the motions of getting a room seemed to take forever. Finally, we were secured in our lair, blocking out everything and everyone. I pulled the curtains shut. She lay across the bed.
Sharing a bottle of Schnapps, we talked until there was nothing more to say. If we had any reservations, the Schnapps melted them away. Still, down deep, we knew it was wrong, though we were not turning back, our conscience the only hurdle ahead.
I unbuttoned her blouse. “This is so wrong,” she whispered, “But it's too late now."
Was she expecting me to do the right thing? I hoped not. Had she changed her mind? The underlying current said yes, the way we were kissing said no.
Wanting Cathy to be sure was important, and for some reason that is still beyond me, I gave her some space, produced a joint and asked if she would a puff. A minute later, we were stoned, a new cloud of consciousness in the air.
Giving the Schnapps a rest, we sat on the the table, and the more we talked, the further away we got from what had set out to do.
I typed out a new sentence. “You were so beautiful, the whole package; brains, attitude, stems to die for.”
“You were a gentleman,” she typed, causing me to kick myself in the ass again and again.
Patting myself on the back, I replied with a smiley face, Yeah well I'm done with that."
"That was a defining moment in my life,” she said.
"Mine too,” I concurred, “much to my chagrin.”
We chatted some more and she typed, “I like your website. Apparently, there is a lot more to medical marijuana than meets the eye. Remember the time you and I spent the night together?”
As you can see, I remember that night like it was yesterday. For years on end, the angst of having spent the entire night together and missing the opportunity to be with Cathy caused me great regret. “How could I forget?” I typed, not knowing how she would respond. .
"The drinks told us yes, but the pot told us no," she typed.
“I swore off pot after that,” I replied with another smiley face, realizing for the first time, that the pot had helped us to maintain.
“That was a defining moment in my life,” she typed. “I was vulnerable. Thank you for not taking advantage of me."
Patting myself on the back for real, I realized how right she was. “The drinks told us yes, but the pot told us no.”
The story ends there, but the memory, and what we learned live on. Marijuana can be a wonderful aphrodisiac, but don't forget this "Tale from the Script" if you ever need help with sensitive issues and affairs of the heart, I highly recommend it for that too. Marijuana does more than heal.
Reviewed and published with Cathy’s permission.