The "Pot Head"

I dated the “Pot Head” a few years back...actually more like six years ago but who's counting? A story is a story! I met the Pot Head at PJ's for a drink after exchanging numerous emails. He had a great sense of humor; the chemistry between the two of us was instant! We laughed, busted on each other and had a great time. I was so excited when he asked me for a second date!

He picked me up for dinner and at first I couldn't remember why I was so into him. He had a lazy eye (I now am a sucker for a lazy eye) and was quiet. We went to an Italian restaurant where he had made us reservations. Little things like opening a car door, making reservations, etc. add up and can really sway a woman from not being sure about a guy to liking him. I was impressed but while we waited for our table it was awkward. Whatever we had the first time we met was gone. I wasn't sure how to handle the situation.

Over dinner he seemed to loosen up a little as did I. I guess we were both nervous and an hour into the date we were right back to laughing and having a great time. Dinner was amazing and when we got into his truck he looked at me, leaned over and kissed me. It was one of those fireworks going off in every direction kind of kiss. A kiss that only happens a few times during a lifetime. I was smitten by this guy! He was funny, had a good job, was chivalrous and there was no shortage on chemistry.

Every time we would get together for a date our lips would instantly connect and before we left the house we'd be kissing. We'd make out in the park, at the bar, in the car, on the couch; at the Phillies game...we just could not keep our hands off each other. I thought I had struck gold!

Now I don't drink. I don't smoke nor do I use drugs. I don't care if a man I date drinks, unless he's an alcoholic of course but I'm not too keen on dating a guy who smokes or uses drugs. Say he smoked a little weed here and there - that I could live with. But when the Pot Head confessed to me that he was a heavy pot smoker I was crushed. I felt like the wind had been removed from my sails and my happiness dissipated in thin air. Kind of like the way smoke disappears after you blow it out from smoking a joint.

He asked me if it was a big deal, or a deal breaker shall we say, and I was honest and said it was. What came as a complete shock was when he told me he'd stop smoking because he really liked me. Just like that, my balloon was re-inflated and I was as high as a kite. No, not literally!

A few weeks went by and things were still going great. One night we went on a double date and when back to his place. Upon entering the house, a familiar smell creeped out the front door. His roommate and friends were there smoking a shit load of pot. Listen, I was 28 at the time. I haven't done puff puff give in an easy 10 years if not more, so sitting there I thought to myself what the fuck am I doing here? Being stone sober with a bunch of stoned people is not what I call a good time. I swear I saw this banner hanging in his roommates bedroom:

 

My beau looked at the joint longing for a hit, or two, or three. Hell he looked at that joint with more longing than he had ever looked at me with! I knew right then and there my man was more into a lady named Mary Jane than myself. He ended up smoking that night. And the night after. And the night after that. Needless to say I would definitely cramp his style and things would never work out but man I will never forget the way he kissed me. Too bad Mary got between us.