I was personally addicted to cocaine in the '70s. I think everyone in town was. It's a really big waste of money if you aren't willing to deal. I wasn't.
Passing the mirror was a favorite party pastime. You snort a couple of lines, it hits you, and you are euphoric for roughly 20 minutes. That's it. Then what? The mirror comes around and you do it again. Rinse and repeat.
You get a cute little glass bottle and a small spoon. Now you're Hip! You buy fluffy powder in slick magazine paper that folds a certain way to protect the contents.
If you are like me, your habitually problematic sinuses get to be much worse. So one day while you are complaining about them to a Biker, he says that you wouldn't have that problem if you shot up. Plus, the blast will be even more euphoric!
50 cent shots that ring your ears and make you taste it in your throat are awesome, until they aren't. They become 1 dollar shots ($100), and the high still doesn't last over a half hour max. What kind of a fool is willing to blow a Benjamin for a half-hour high? Repeatably, until out of money?
The people that I knew in South 'O' were connected. They were importing pink rocks from Bolivia. I could score mine from the uncut batch! Yipee!
At that point I started to see a problem. I moved to Dallas Texas in 1978. I planned to kick. My roomie and I did a lot of drugs, but the cocaine he scored was about 95% manitol (the cut) and the rest cocaine. It was street garbage. It was easy to pass on, fortunately for me
I have never done any since I left Omaha. But one needs to want to stop, and that decision is impossible when it's around.
Your new girlfriend is going to do cocaine. That is her decision. What will be yours?