But then I got high...

The summer before my senior year of high school I dated this guy who was totally not my type but I was 17 and wasn't looking for Mr. Right. The sort of guy who eventually failed out of Catonsville Community College. The sort of guy who probably is either dead or retarded by now. This is the sort of guy who would wake and bake every morning and would cry if he missed a 4:20. I mean, I'm all for a little recreational pot use on the weekends or whatever (okay, fine, not really but I can pretend), but this guy took it to the extreme. He had done more drugs than I could name, and I was like the valedictorian of DARE in fifth grade (no shit).

But he was a little older and had a fake ID so I could have alcohol whenever I wanted to. I was drunk off my ass 75 percent of that summer. To make things ever better, his parents went away all summer so he had the house to himself and we threw incredible parties all the frickin' time.

This guy, BS (fitting, huh?), was my first "boyfriend" after the high school sweetheart (the Mormon) and I broke up and I think the fact that he was the antithesis of Mormonness probably drew me to him (okay, fine, that and the beer).

At first the drug thing was rebellious and that was dangerous and that was a turn on. But when you're trying to talk on the phone and you hear the distinct gargling of bong water (we've all heard it), it's a little distracting. Our conversations would go like this:

Me: "So I think we should go get sushi at that new place by Riverside for lunch--what's that noise?"
Him: [coughs] "Umm, nothing."
Me: "Seriously, you're getting high at 11:23 on a Wednesday morning?"
Him: "It's wake and bake, and I helped."

This got real old real fast.

So anyways, I knew this relationship had no long-term potential (I couldn't bring him to Homecoming or anything--I'd probably get suspended!), but I figured I'd be the one to dump him. So imagine my surprise when, labor day weekend, he comes over to take me to lunch and a movie (I had to work that night) and says we need to have a serious talk after the movie (um, because that's not a red flag). I make him tell me what we're going to talk about right then and there. So he dumps me and I cry a little (because I don't know, I wanted to be the one doing the dumping) and I'm about to go in my house when he says "do you still want to go to the movies"? Meaning, "Do you still want to fool around in the movie theater?".

Yeah, let's do that jackass. Go smoke some more pot there.