The Intellectual Pothead

Remember my crazy mom who tries to set me up with coworkers' children? Well, about a year ago she started a new job and the woman who hired her decided it'd be a great idea to set me up with her son. Let's call him Zane. He soon after friended me on Facebook, appeared normal, and we'd occasionally Facebook chat or text but could never find time to meet up.

Friday after work, I was full of energy per usual and rearing to go out. Unfortunately, Porter was gone for the weekend and Seraphina was not up for an adventure, leaving me on my own. Zane and I had chatted via Facebook (as usual) earlier that week and he was also home until further notice, leaving both of us bored and him very much unemployed. So, I decided since I'd be home watching reruns of Friends if I wasn't proactive, I decided to see what Zane was doing. Lucky for me, he responded immediately and asked me if I was feeling adventurous and wanted to go to the fair in his town. I thought this could be an interesting first meeting, so we decided to go for it.

I arrived at his house, unsure of what to expect. He was not as attractive as he appeared in Facebook photos but then again, neither am I. We got in the car and started chatting. He was quite talkative so there were no awkward moments. He enjoyed using words I had probably only seen in the SAT analogies section. Fortunately I was able to at least sort-of keep up and pulled out a few vocab words of my own. Aside from that, I found out he doesn't like to drink much and much prefers smoking. So instead of heading straight to the fair, he asked if I was interested in smoking a bowl. I obliged.

Zane and I took a driving tour on his usual smoking route and I learned even more about him. The one problem was, the more hits I took (I believe there were 3 total) the dumber I seemed to become. He kept talking as before, but I was left slightly confused and somewhat unresponsive. I also wanted to hurry up and get to the fair so I could possibly purchase some sort of snack.

Parking at the fair proved to be difficult so we decided to grab a couple beers at a local dive instead. En route, he asked what type of music I liked and correctly guessed it was dancey-pop. His radio was playing all sorts of stuff I had never heard before, and wouldn't care to listen to again. He also got rather deep, talking about a friend who'd recently passed in a boating accident and how he reacts in crisis. He explained to me that he freaks out over little things but believes he would make an excellent military strategist. Huh? I would likely have trouble getting this deep while not high and the utter lack of any ability to process thought really left me dumbfounded. So I let him go on until we arrived at the mostly-empty bar.

Darts proved to be another challenge. Luckily I had played before (all of twice) so I was not at a complete loss. I did find him chatting still and asking me to pick song on the digital jukebox (I was embarassed and pertrubed about his calling me out on my musical tastes, so I pretended I had no current favorites and let him choose). I drank my beers (paid for by him, though not as tasty as a snack would have been) and threw darts everywhere but the dart board. My darts seemed to have a magnetic attraction to the 18. Irrelevent. Though I also stupidly found myself standing in his way of shooting darts (without realizing) and taking the darts from him when it was not my turn. Was this the weed or merely the fact that I was uninterested in this bar game? Either way, I was getting a bit antsy (and sleepy) and so I tried to wrap it up. He drove me to my car and even suggested we try going to the fair the following night. Sure, why not.

Anyway, it was not an utter failure as one would expect from being set up by Mom. But I'm not sure there was chemistry. A friendship could possibly form if I were willing to play darts in an empty bar or hang out with his townies talking about... God knows what. I guess I'll know who to call if I'm ever in the mood to smoke. But his deep thinking made me feel a bit shallow and like a cliche girl. Which I am totally not. Right?