The last time I was offered cocaine, it was by a woman snorting it off a porta potty toilet at Fashion Week. This was a few years ago and I always kind of kept this incident mind. Periodically, often while waiting for 7 years to get into a bathroom at Rose Bar, I would ask myself “who does cocaine?”And Myself replied in this beautiful Margaret Thatcher voice “people who don’t fear the porta potties at Fashion Week.” So, people who are destined to die, soon.
I think the only other time cocaine was offered to me was during college, and I considered it, because I love French Aristocrats, and therefore really enjoyed Cruel Intentions, and was taken with the notion of hiding cocaine in a cross necklace. None of these things made sense, but, well, Cruel Intentions was a good movie, and I was 18, and that was that. Then a friend gave some girl visiting the school cocaine, and she had a bad reaction and began vomiting, and everyone was afraid to call anyone (she was fine) and I decided, well, cool, I guess I will never be doing drugs, ever.
There’s also the fact that I move at a snappy pace to begin with and I think cocaine would make me unbearable. I’m pretty certain that if I did any drugs, I’d end up like Roger Sterling, telling everyone “I had an experience” afterwards, because, well, there is just a 100% percent certainty I would do this, because I’m awful that way.