I like to have a good time. Not a shock to you faithful blog followers. Some might even say I’m wild. Not wild in the “sexy getting naked and riding a mechanical bull” type way … more in the hot mess way of “drinking mass amounts of shots, falling on my face and passing out sans pants while using my own blood as a pizza dipping sauce.”
Hey, we’ve all been there…right?
A few weeks ago, I had dinner with a “not worth detailing his demographics” date. Long story short, I didn’t go out with him again, so who gives a hoot about what his face was like and how unexciting his personality was.
So anyway, we walked back to his car after the date, and as I’m settling into the passenger seat, I detected the undeniable scent of marijuana. I dreamily drifted back to the days of my youth spent waxing poetic about the injustices of war while softly bobbing my head to the sounds of Grateful Dead.
OK, really I thought back to the god-awful time in high school I smoked a heap of the cheapest weed known to man out of an apple (in between shots of straight vodka), vomited profusely, then passed out in the back of some stranger’s car after babbling incoherently for an hour. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely am not anti-weed. But unfortunately when I partake, a large majority of the time I will end up falling asleep after eating, in one sitting, three days’ worth of calories in Thai food or cheesy cardboard. I don’t discriminate.
“You smell that?” he asked me excitedly. “Um, yeah” I responded. I think people in the car next to us who have no sense of smell could smell the marijuana, guy! He then dives under his seat and surfaced with a sandwich baggie housing a very packed bowl. “I thought we could have an after-dinner smoke,” he said.
Now, this is not the first time a guy has brought pot on a first date. This will be the first time I will turn it down, though.
This is growth people.
Unless I have dreadlocks, smell of patchouli and/or you meet me at a Phish concert, do not assume I smoke pot. I may have fallen for that shit years ago and let you cop a feel in between hits, but I’m 31 now. I’m tired and I’m hungry enough already.
After the date, I actually somewhat regretted turning him down. If the stuff was good, it would have been the only positive part of the evening!