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A couple of months ago, Kay invited me to one of her co-worker’s birthday party at a bar. These events are somewhat annoying in that when all these broads get together, all they do is talk about their work (they all work at a Montessori school) and whatever co-workers aren’t around.

One of the co-workers I don’t know (or like) very well came, and brought this guy with her. I remember when she introduced him to Kay and I, all I could think was, wow, this guy’s hot. What the fuck is he doing with HER?

Later on in the night, when they were all talking about Montessori crap, he and I started talking about music. We sat and talked for about 30 minutes, until Kay came up and told me very quietly that I shouldn’t be talking to him so intently, because he was the other girl’s date. But he was cute. And I liked him. But, not wanting to make Kay’s work life difficult, I didn’t really talk to him much after that.

About a week after that, I asked Kay, “So what’s up with A and that guy?”

“Oh, they’re just friends. They went out a few times, but they’re only friends now.”

I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, though he would pop into my mind every now and then, and I was pissed that I didn’t make a move.

Fast forward to about a week ago. There is this cheesy dating site for fat chicks that I joined, but I never logged in to it because the guys that contacted me were all gross guys from Arkansas, and Montana, and various other places that are NOT southern California. But for whatever reason, one morning before work I did log in, and clicked on the “who’s viewed me” button, and there he was. Well, I was pretty sure it was him. I sent him an email that basically said, “This might sound strange, but I think I met you at this bar, blah blah blah.” About two minutes later, I got an enthusiastic response telling me that yes, it was him, and he remembered me. He gave me his number, and we started talking regularly.

We made plans to go out for drinks Saturday night. He met me at my house, and we went and had a good time. He’s very blunt, and sarcastic, and doesn’t censor himself. It should surprise no one that I was incredibly turned on by this. We had really good conversation. He’s hot. And sometimes when he talked to me, he looked at me really intensely while his hand was on my thigh and HOLY SHIT DID I WANT THIS GUY. It was good. But then he said, “Look, to be fair, I feel like there’s something I should tell you right up front.”

I sighed. “If you tell me you have a girlfriend or a wife, I’m going to punch you in the balls right now and leave you here.”

He laughed. “No, no… I smoke. Cigarettes.”

“I know.”

“I smoke pot, too.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that.”

We ate some appetizers and had a few more drinks, and he said, “You want to back to your house and smoke a joint?”

“Sure. Let’s go. But I’m warning you - weed makes me super tired.”

(At this point, I should let you all know that I don’t remember the last time I smoked pot. From the time I was 17 til about 21, I probably smoked more than most people do in their lifetime, but since then, I can count on two hands the times I’ve done it. None of my friends do, and it’s not something I would go out of my way to get. Plus, I always get really tired and just want to go to bed, so I don’t care for it.)

So we got back to my house, and started looking for something to watch on the television, and we discovered we both liked Deadwood, so we started watching that. I realized about fifteen minutes later that either my tolerance for pot is looooow, or he brought some super-duper crazy strong blackout weed, because it turned me into a dopey mess. I was so high I couldn’t keep track of what we were talking about, or if we had talked about it already, or if I was even imagining the conversation happening. He went outside to smoke and it seemed like he was gone for hours. I didn’t want to tell him that I was turning into a paranoid wacko, so I just tried to act normal. (You can imagine how well this worked.)

All I wanted was for the pot to wear off so I could feel normal and make out with this boy. But I couldn’t, because I couldn’t even barely keep my eyes open, and he could tell. He put his arm around me, and I got comfortable. Then he started messing with my hair, and that was all I needed. I totally fell asleep. I remember waking up sporadically, and I could tell by his breathing (and sometimes snoring) that he was sleeping, too, so I just went with it. I woke up sometime about an hour later, just in time to see Justin Timberlake doing a sketch on SNL that made me laugh my ass off. I felt better, but still not entirely normal. Unfortunately, he was pretty much done. “I need to either go home or lay down. I’m tired.” I wanted him to spend the night, but then, I didn’t. I didn’t really say anything, so he said he was leaving.

I think he was pissed that I didn’t ask him to stay. But I didn’t want to do it while I was still dopey and out of it. He kissed me goodbye, and told me he’d call me, which hasn’t happened. Granted, it’s less than 24 hours later, but I texted him earlier this afternoon basically apologizing for being such a lightweight asshole, but he never replied. Whatever.

Stupid pot. That’s what I get for not listening to McGruff The Crime Dog.

I know you’re all TOTALLY JEALOUS you’re not me.