So it goes like this…well you know the story. I became an addict about 17 years ago. A friend offered me some Levi Garrett chew the summer before my first year at college. It didn’t make me feel sick, gave me a buzz, and offered me another way to relate to some of my friends. Chew did not become a habit, just something every once in a while when I was around certain friends who did it.

Fast forward to my freshmen year in college. I was never a party-er, a drinker, or drug addict. I was a clean cut boy who was a 3 sport athlete, always had a steady girlfriend, studied, and listened to my parents. Well that soon ended. What became freedom to me was skipping classes, drinking beer at least 3 nights a week,  and introducing a different way of getting nicotine to my hall mates with dip, instead of cigarettes, trying to fit in. Once a week turned into 3, into 5, into…well, I was just a social dipper. Right? “I can stop,” was the line to myself or to anyone who thought this habit was disgusting. One of the fucking dumbest phrases in the English language. I had now become a slave.

So what? I was young, experimenting, and when I grew up I would stop. It was not a big deal. Even my girlfriend, who later became my wife, didn’t seem to mind. But why didn’t I do it in public? Why didn’t I do it around my parents? My friends’ parents? Old high school friends? You know why….I was owned by the nic bitch and I knew what I was doing was wrong. I could not stop.

Fast forward to when I was supposedly GROWN UP. My first permanent job with insurance, living by myself for the first time, coaching, and of course, dipping. Wait, I thought I was going to grow out of this shit? So I quit, for about 3 months. I felt good.  It was that time of the year to go out with some of the boys I work with, have some beers, drive home buzzed, AND…pick up a tin. Why not? I DESERVED it. It was only ONE tin. It would only be ONE pinch for that night. Maybe one pinch a couple times a week until the tin was finished and I wouldn’t buy another. Again, you know the rest of the story.

Fast forward to getting married. I finally fell under the spell of my high school sweetheart and succumbed to marriage. For those of you that are married, you know exactly what I am talking about! Anyway, she had been nagging me for a few years now about dipping around her and wanting me to quit. Of course I would. She was the love of my life, how could I NOT quit? You know that answer too.

Marriage was going fine. I was now supposed to be quit, that was my wedding gift to her (don’t laugh, I know you have made that promise too!!). So sneaking around becomes my second job. “Yes, dear, I don’t do that shit anymore. What the fuck? Stop nagging me. I have to run some errands, I’ll be back in a bit…” A week later, relaxing watching TV, wife asleep, I’m dipping. One of my favorite things to do, she sneaks out of bed and asks me what the hell am I doing? Caught. I never learned that lesson either. How many different times would I get caught? I could be sneakier…smarter….right? NO WAY! But you knew that too. The nic bitch told me that I could dip in the house again, dip late at night, leave my can in the car, in my dresser, my pants, chew at work in the bathroom, and not get caught. “Come on, what are you waiting for, you can conceal it. Not a big deal, you will not get caught again.”

“Dan, who’s can of chew is that on the bathroom floor in the PE office?” “Dan, are you dipping in the house?” “Dan, do you have a dip in? Show me right now.” “You can not be trusted, I HATE people who sneak and lie.” “Daddy, what’s that in your mouth? Can I have some?” “If I pinch a bb right now, I bet I can conceal it, gut it, and have it in all morning and no one will know.”

You know the story. I am not special. And because you know the story, neither are you. You, me, everyone who is close to the nic bitch are addicts. We all have the same story. We are not special. But because of KTC, my story is still continuing, in a different direction. A new chapter, hell, hopefully a new volume. And if you’re reading this, yours is changing too. If not, maybe you are heading in that direction. My new life story started 223 days ago including today. And that’s where it ends….today. Because I now live one day at a time. I have stopped being a slave, but only for today. And tomorrow, who knows, and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. I’m free today.

My hope as I write this is that I stay quit, that I do not turn into a pussy tomorrow, that ONE person reads it and it has a positive effect. This is my time quitting, blogging, and living again. I am dforbes, day 223, and I am quit for TODAY…hopefully you have HTFU today too brothers and sisters. I am with you.