Speed Rub

Let's say you've met someone you like. I mean, you really like him or her. But he or she is not your usual type, and you're worried that your friends and family won't give him or her a chance because they have ideas of who would make you happy, and sometimes those ideas may not jive with your own ideas of happiness. Sometimes you're not even sure which ideas are yours and which are theirs. So you hide him or her from them, to protect him or her, and yourself. You steal your happiness from him or her instead of sharing it with the world. And, out of respect to him or her you tell him or her, but mostly out of fear of intimacy, you limit the physical relationship to light petting, maybe the occasional massage. But the guilt of your dishonesty and selfishness eventually drives a wedge between you and your special friend, and that wedge eventually splits the love built between the two of you. But before all of that, before the rift, in the midst of your private love, your nights with him or her are cherished things. You want to feel alive, to be alive every moment you are with him or her just massaging. So you buy some meth, right? You buy some meth because it helps you relax.