A long time ago, I met a young man. I was looking for an apartment and this just-left-mom's-home-gonna-live-with-dad-now 20-year-old was the one who seemed the most open-minded and interesting of those I met. And the apartment was a tiny, old type of place that was meant as a temporary home for travellers of the waters who needed a place to stay that was affordable, but that was for a few months at a time as they were also businessmen looking for goods to bring back home. It was adorable and I wanted to live there.
So I moved in. He was particularly happy about the fact that the only furniture missing, out of all I had, was the living room. I had a fully equipped kitchen and laundry room, as well as the PC with computer desk. He was relieved and I was glad to be with one studying psychology since this was a shared passion.
I did not know anything about vegetarianism or, even less, veganism yet, and was still just touting the ground on better meat selections - meaning more natural options that are less health-damaging. His father, a devout vegan and left-wing politically-minded journalist for a local radio station, came by once in a while and talked about food choices. He was the first ever to sit me down and clearly make me understand why cow's milk is bad. I had already greatly reduced my milk consumption on my own just because I was not tempted by it as much anymore, but cheese and yoghurt were still high on my list at the time. And Loic, the son, was not yet a vegetarian but on his way to becoming one.
I brewed the father's thoughts for a while and chose to slowly reduce my meat consumption to eventually take the steps to becoming vegan. As some of you know, my mother, to this day, does not accept my diet choices - much less my left-wing political and radical mind - and will at times try to pour some sort of meat broth in my food (if I am visiting her) and deny doing it, even though it's obvious my food is no longer vegan. She claims my 'feeling better' physically and having a clearer mind are psychological and she can cure me of it if I just ate enough non-vegan products. I have not been to my mother's for dinner in a long time; in fact, I almost consider myself not her child anymore and a lost soul who was born in the wrong family.
But, even though this is a problem, what makes me wonder about people is when I tell them that Loic used to sneak something else that makes me angry in my food: drugs. He would add natural drugs only, but still - the stuff he put in my food would make me feel dizzy, get my heart knocking so hard against my ribcage it feels like I am about to have a heart attack, or make my skin feel numb. And I hate it. I detest drugs and how they feel, but he thought he could get me hooked. And failed.
When I tell people about this, they strongly believe that my psyche chose to become vegan because I was drugged and they actually think that they can bring me back to an omnivore diet by drugging me yet again. As unethical and illegal as this sounds, I can vouch for how they put marijuana and coca leaves in my coffee and serve me food that isn't vegan, hoping I will get addicted to eat and just 'feel good' after eating my meal. I never feel good after this sort of food and always tell them, but no matter how often I let them know, they don't stop. So I stopped seeing these people.
Unfortunately, others start believing the same thing and start trying again. I am starting to wonder if I am an illegal- and evil-doer magnet and why in the name of God they keep trying to do this to me. Maybe they're just bored and have nothing else to do?
I am still a vegan, and still very strongly against drugs. And no, I did not become a vegan because of drugs.