All of his friends asked him when he was going to stop putting up with all of her crap; the week-long drinking binges, loud, violent fights, constantly passing out In public, the arrests, picking the kids up wearing ridiculously low cut blouses and short-ass skirts...and of course the drug use.
He would answer with deeply philosophical replies concerning freedom of choice and expression and how it was exactly what John Locke would have wanted his own wife to do.
Then he would change his seat at the bar and hope the person who sat on the empty bar stool next to him was somewhat literate or at least open minded.
Eventually, it dawned on him that not everybody was so wholesomely understanding. He started looking at people differently after that, as if they were very far away even if they were actually sitting right next to him. He said it gave him a buffer, a little cushion between him and those who chew gum compulsively.
As luck would have it, one day I was sitting in the bar stool next to him and after listening to him unravel about his wife, about how people reacted to his telling them about his wife, and then about his realizations about those people and their reactions to his reactions concerning his wife...well, let's just leave it at this:
"Dude, you have got to kick the reefer, you're not making any sense."
His reaction: "Dude, it's not addictive."
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