Guy Heads To Mexico To Kill Himself, Cocaine And Hookers Help Him Reconsider

Entertainment — November 6, 2014 at 11:59 pm by

Not exactly Chicken Noodle Soup For The Soul here, but you can’t deny a positive ending. This guy thought it was his time to go, so he headed to Mexico to get the goods for a humane and peaceful death. Going to Mexico for such a thing seems a little off, but I digress…

From a thread on reddit, here is one man’s story of survival:

Went to Mexico to buy barbiturates for a humane and peaceful death.

Decided that if I was gonna die anyway I might as well fuck a prostitute before it was all over. After that a cab driver offered to sell me cocaine. One thing lead to another, and I got a room above a whore house equipped with a heart shaped bed, a stripper pole, and a hot tub.

Spent a full week snorting coke off tits, popping pain meds, drinking tequila, eating handfuls of Viagra to fight the whiskey/coke dick, and had three FFM threesomes.

Somewhere in the midst of my coke-fueled orgy I decide life wasn’t so bad after all.

rick j

Many doubters came forward to dispute this story, so the user updated some information to validate his story. He also clarifies that he is not suggesting cocaine and hookers cure depression, it just happened to be what he personally needed…

EDIT 1: This didn’t cure my depression. It convinced me not to kill myself. There’s a difference. My depression is in recovery now due to hard work and dedication. If you are dealing with depression and you are in the US googleNAMI(National Alliance on Mental Illness) and find your local chapter. They provide free group therapy and they can put you in touch with all the programs at your disposal to tackle depression and other illnesses. Good luck, and never give up.

EDIT 2: To clarify a couple big points. this happened about 6 years ago. The drugs and sex didn’t fix me. They were like CPR for a man with a stopped heart. Dangerous, risky, and unlikely to work, but if you can keep the guy alive long enough to get the defibrillator to him, even if it means breaking some ribs, it’s worth the risk. I was going to die that night. I don’t suggest if you’re feeling depressed that you get a mountain of cocaine and a gaggle of chicas. But if you’re holding the fucking gun to your head as you read this, yes, please do. Get some coke, get some women, get whatever you need! Don’t. Do. It. Please?

Point 2. Some people dredged up another version of this story from my history. One in which I sat in a hotel room with the barbiturates until I got an email from my sister that brought me to tears and convinced me to dump the drugs and come home. That is true too. Both things happened. Whores and drugs kept me from killing myself, and that email brought me home. When I tell the story to my family, girlfriends, fellow group therapy people, I leave out the coke and the whores. When I’m hanging out at the bar trading stories I leave out the tears and the sentimental email.

EDIT 3: I am STD-free. The adventure cost me around 2 grand or so, if memory serves.

via TFM

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>