Have I Missed the Boat on Experimental Drugs? Perhaps.

Every time I drink coffee, I am reminded why I am an ill-fitting candidate for drug use.

I’d set aside my 40’s for exploring the pleasures of ecstasy, LSD, Acid, and other hallucinogenic drugs. It’s what has kept me going, through the years of being good, and following the rules. ‘Ha!’ I’d say to myself, ‘I may be boring now, but just wait til I turn 40, and have the financial freedom to dabble in hallucinogenic drugs!’

I constantly reference my fourth decade, as my ‘future experimental years’. I figure by then, Matt and I will have paid off our home loans, credit card debt, and whatever else we manage to accumulate over the next decade, and then we can FINALLY chill a bit, try out a few recreational drugs, and listen to some mind-blowing music on our new Bose surround sound. It is going to be epic!

But those grand plans come to a grinding halt, every time I decide to have a cup of coffee.

Coffee gives me the shakes. It reminds me how sensitive my body is to outside stimuli. My stomach gets gurgley, my head starts to feel both heavy and light, in different ways. I become anxious, and my palms become sweaty. It’s a nightmare. Not to mention, I feel too sick to exercise, yet too awake to nap. For the next forty-eight hours, I am trapped in a hell of my own, jittery making.

And let’s be serious, this is just coffee. This is a thing that people consume several cups of, daily. I just had half a cup, and filled the rest with milk, (my lactose intolerance, be damned!).

If my body freaks out from coffee, how’s it going to react to LSD? I mean, seriously? How can I feel comfortable enough to open my mind, and explore the universe, if my body is going to be an oversensitive, Debbie-Downer. What if I take one hit, and die, like that girl from “Jessica’s Secret Diary” (Sweet Valley High, people!)?

And let’s not forget the infamous weed brownie story. That was a total disaster!

It occurs to me, at this late phase, with my Thirty-First birthday around the corner, that I may have, in fact, squandered my youth. The worst part is, I’m actually boring now. There’s no fun in store for me, in my forties. I might as well have a baby, and get on with my boring, predictable, ordinary existence….

*Sigh*, all I want to be in Roger Sterling, from Mad Men.

 

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