Tuesday, August 08, 2006

105 minutes of the 120 I spent with him were great...

But it’s because of a three minute conversation that I won’t be seeing him again. Here’s the play by play:

7:30: Oh, he’s cuter than I thought he’d be. Yeay!

8:00: He’s nice. I like him.

8:15: Wow. Smart too. I love that he can talk politics. And that he has a job he loves with the Department of Defense. That’s hot.

8:30: He loves hockey and soccer? Yuck. I can get over it though.

8:45: Sounds like he has a good family.

9:00: I’m definitely going to see him again.

And then…

9:15 - 9:18:
So, how do you feel about weed?
Me: About what?
Him: Weed. You know. Smoking pot?
Me: Um, I dunno. To each his own?
Him: Because I do…smoke weed.
Me: You do? Really? Couldn’t you lose your job if you got caught?
Him: Absolutely. That’s why I keep a can of that detox shit in my fridge.
Me: Oh. Don’t your neighbors smell it?
Him: No. I lock myself in my room and filter it through water.
Me: You take bong hits???
Him: Yeah. Only on the weekends though. It’s not addictive you know.
Me: Wow. Bong hits.

9:19: What? Bong hits? Did he really just admit to having a drug problem on the first date?

9:30: Smell you later Cheech.

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