Don't Let Anyone Tell You Marijuana isn't Addictive

by Amii

Don't let anyone ever tell you that marijuana isn't addictive or that it doesn't ruin lives. Years ago, I was coming out of an abusive relationship and thought I met the perfect guy. "Dennis" told me that the only little flaw he had was very occasional marijuana smoking and that he could quit "any time". I believed him.

We moved in together and the problems started almost immediately. The occasional marijuana was an everyday event--he "felt" like it--he told me.

I soon found out he was paying back a loan to his mother because he had stolen his father's collection of rare coins while his parents were on vacation. Dennis admitted he sold the coins to buy marijuana, but this was all in the past. The first actual involvement with me was twenty dollars missing from my purse. I was a student and working as a home health care worker so every penny counted. Dennis said he thought it was extra money. He was sorry. I was upset but let it go.

Next, my brother bought me three music CD's. Within a week they vanished. Dennis said that he was certain I told him he could take the CD's to the pawn shop. I never even considered allowing him to sell my gift for dope.

That Christmas, my sister (who has since passed away) gave me a beautiful Gucci watch. Soon the watch vanished. I cried as I turned the apartment upsidedown looking for the watch. Dennis said he was sure he knew who stole the watch--my 14 year old niece had visited. It was obvious to him that Nikki had taken it. I still can't believe I fell for it--I stopped speaking with my niece! I now know, of course, he sold my watch for dope.

A few weeks later, a married couple I knew from high school visited and we had a great time. When they left I was so looking forward to seeing them again. In the morning, my last ten dollars was missing from my purse. Dennis said that Jeff must have stolen it when he went into the kitchen. I stopped speaking with my friends.

I then found out about a scheme Dennis was running. When we were together, he obtained three credit cards. A Visa, a department store and a clothing store card. My father went into the hospital and I used the Visa to order flowers before taking the bus to the clothing store to buy a pair of jeans and a sweater. The card at the clothing store was declined and when I got home there was a message that the Visa charge was also declined. I come to find out that to get cash to buy his marijuana, Dennis would charge high dollar amount items such as diapers and cigarettes and resell them for a dime on the dollar for cash. He would also give the store cards to friends, let them charge clothing and give him a few dollars cash for high priced charges.

Finally, the last straw. I received a letter from my bank that three checks had bounced. I was so stunned because I was so careful with money. I called the bank and they told me someone made three ATM withdrawals. I immediately went into the bank. The woman was most helpful. She apologized--it wasn't ATM withdrawals. It was three checks. Did I know someone named Dennis ....
I was sick and disgusted.

I went back to the apartment to confront Dennis. He said he stole three checks from the back of the book because he didn't think I'd miss them. He planned to go to the bank and deposit money before I noticed. But he never had money--he spent it on drugs. When I asked him why he didn't admit it when I received the letter from the bank, he said he thought the bank screwed up when they mentioned the ATMs. As I stood there that afternoon looking at this man I thought I loved as he swayed unsteadily with glassy eyes rolling around his head, I finally realized he was hopelessly addicted to marijuana and by staying with him I was lowering myself down to his level.

Lucky for me, an uncle left me a bit of money and I located a new apartment right away. Dennis assumed he was moving in with me right up until the day I left and I told him I was moving alone. He moved back with his his parents but still continued to try to maintain our relationship. Shortly after I moved I began getting phone calls from collection agencies looking for him--I gave them his parents' phone number. Several months later I relocated to another county.

A year or so later he asked my mother to tell me he'd received his GED and to thank me for the help I'd given to him. I don't know if he ever straightened out his life, but I'm thankful I got out when I did. The marijuana controlled his life and the events of stealing and lying were escalating to the point where sooner or later he was going to be looking at jail time. Please, please don't believe that marijuana isn't addictive. I sacrificed family, friends and nearly myself because I turned a blind eye to Dennis' drug abuse.