This time one year ago I met a guy on Grindr I found myself very attracted to. I had a hunch he was a user when he invited me over for a threesome at his place, but I was fresh out of a disastrous LTR, had time off work, and my town was literally burning down around me, so I got a bad case of the fuck-its and went anyways. That, unfortunately, began a series of once a month, party-n-play visits which lasted until December, when I moved away, stopped seeing buddy, and discontinued what was quickly becoming a very bad habit.

It’s been over seven months since my last use. I’m in a happy, healthy relationship with a man I love. Things are good.

I’m surrounded by hardcore users in my city who are all just few bad days away from death. They serve as a constant reminder of just how quickly this drug can steal everything from you. I try to remember this when my brain sometimes gets hit with stressors that bring on euphoric recall. I try to remind myself how shitty it felt leaving buddy’s in the cold light of morning, feeling like a hollow shell of a person after all the feel-good chemicals have worn off.

I’m proud that I’ve abstained in 2024, but it terrifies me knowing how fast this shit can get its claws deep, deep inside you, or how just one bad case of the fuck-its can lead to such quick, devastatingly bad decisions. Scary shit.