Let me tell you about a time I ingested marijuana.
If that first sentence didn’t give it away, I’m not that familiar with drugs or drug culture. Maybe it’s because I was born in San Francisco, grew up near Oakland, and went to college in Berkeley. The Bay Area is so pro-pot that the thought of smoking pot never really seemed appealing. It’s like growing up with hippie parents. Sure they seem like fun to be around, but they’re your parents. You’re around them so much; you’re bound to rebel and go the other way. I think that’s what I did with pot. That is, until this past year.
In April of last year, I was down in San Diego performing. After the Friday shows, my friends and I decided to go to a local bar.
There I met a lady, Maddie, who was 30, several years older than me. I like older women, mostly because at my current age of 23, that’s most of the women that I’m legally allowed to have sex with. Maddie was cute, sexy, vivacious, a real ball of feminine energy. She and I really hit it off. We must have danced for hours. As the bar was closing and my friends and I were leaving, I invited Maddie to come to the shows at the club the following night. Saturday night came and so did she. We talked after the late show.
She asked me, “So, what do you want to do now?”
I replied, “Well, we could go to my hotel room, but I’m staying with three other comedians, so it’s not so much a hotel room as it is a small petting zoo. Why don’t we go back to your place?”
We decided on her place.
Now, to give you some context as to what was happening in my life at the time, I had just ended a long relationship and was saying “yes” to more things, which is a very powerful feeling. I was saying “yes” to going to a bar after the Friday shows when I could have gone back to the hotel. I was saying “yes” to dancing with and talking to Maddie. And now I was saying “yes” to letting her whisk me off to her home.
I didn’t know when I went to her place that I was going to meet her mother. But I did, because she was living with her mother.
She called it “being in a transitional phase;” I called it “inexcusable.” The only people who can be in a transitional phase are comedians, college graduates, and recovering drug addicts. Since I’m two of those things, I’m in the clear. At 30, you should have some things figured out, like a living situation that does not include your mother.
She wasn’t just living with her mother; she was also living with a male roommate who was not related to either of them. So let’s recap. It was: her, Mom, and Random Guy. There’s a terrible sitcom being played out in suburban San Diego right now. Let’s go back to that set.
We got to talking, getting to know each other more. Maddie asked me if I wanted to smoke some pot. I said no, but I did enjoy edibles. She got excited and proudly touted her cooking prowess. She had just baked a batch of cookies. They weren’t too strong, but they were fresh. She asked me if I wanted to have an edible. I’m saying “yes” to more things; let’s have an edible.
We each had our own cookie and continued talking. After about an hour, the conversation steered back around to pot.
She asked, “So, do you smoke pot often?”
I said, “Not really. I just tried pot for the first time a few months ago.”
Maddie’s mood changed. I watched the life leave her face. She said, “Oh…well…listen. When I said that these cookies aren’t strong, I’m usually talking to stoners. You know, people who smoke pot every day. So, this may come on a little stronger than you think.”
For those of you following along, this is about an hour after I’ve eaten the pot cookie. If you’ve had an edible, you know that that’s about the amount of time it takes for the pot to permeate through your system. I could feel my body turning into electricity and Jello at the same time.
But the worst thing to add to a total body high is fear. Fear spreads through your body a lot faster than pot ever will. I felt the fear coursing through my body as everything was going into slow motion.
I said, “Wait…wait…wait…get the cookie out.”
That’s the only solution I could think of with my newly high brain: get the cookie out. But there was no getting the cookie out. I was very worried. Maybe I had said “yes” to too many things.
Maddie calmed me down. We moved into another room, a warmer room I remember. She turned on some music – I want to say Otis Redding – which calmed me down. We started dancing some more, the way we did the night before when we met, but closer. We started making out.
I have to say she was a terrible kisser. It started out alright, but as things got hotter and heavier, there were a lot of teeth involved. Again, this is not how things should be when you’re 30. You should have figured this out half a lifetime ago.
But we kept going. Maybe if I said “yes” enough, it would make the situation better. In the midst of our violent frolicking in our altered states, we came to a fork in the road: we were either going to have sex or fall asleep for 12 hours. We were both quite aware of this crossroads, but considering we were in her room in her house, she felt obligated to speak up.
“I just want you to know that I really like you, but I don’t think I want to have sex with you tonight.”
I guess you can’t say “yes” forever.
Now I’ve been told I have an old soul. I don’t know exactly what that means, but as far as I can gather, that means that I feel comfortable in cardigan sweaters and enjoy a good soup. I’m essentially a 65-year-old man on the inside. However, I’m still living in the body of a 23-year-old, with 23-year-old desires. When she said that sex might not be the best course of action, my 65-year-old brain was thinking: “Good idea. We’re both really high and probably shouldn’t be making rash decisions like having sex. Plus, if she’s this bad at kissing, I can’t imagine what sex is like.” That’s what I said in my head.
My 23-year-old body did not agree. It was saying: “Wait, why aren’t we having sex? I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to all these things so that I could have sex with a stranger and get over my ex-girlfriend. And now you’re telling me we’re not gonna do it?!”
My mind and body were arguing. But I did need to form a response so that she wasn’t left hanging. Eventually they came together and out of my mouth came the words, “Are you sure?”
She was starting to appear more sleepy than sexual. “Yeah, I think so. I’m just too high.”
I didn’t know you could be too high to fuck. My body was very disappointed. We both fell asleep in her bed.
Before she whisked me away, Maddie asked me when I needed to be back at my hotel the next day. I told her that I had to check out at noon and should probably be back by 10:30 to pack.
I woke up the next day at 12:15pm to my phone vibrating violently on her nightstand. I gathered my senses and answered. It was Danny, one of the comedians I had traveled with from L.A.
All he said was: “Hey. Where are you? We’re leaving.”
The room came back into focus as I heard him over the phone. I saw that I was alone in what I thought was Maddie’s room, but the room did not look like the room of a 30-year-old woman. As I lay in a mess of bright pink sheets and dozens of stuffed animals, I felt like I was in the bedroom of an 11-year old girl. Was Maddie just childish or emotionally stunted? And where the hell was she? I had to go find her. This was turning into a horror movie way too quickly. I wanted to tell Danny where I was or how we were going to meet up, but all that came out was: “Tell the hotel to wait for me!”
I ran through Maddie’s house. It appeared empty. No Maddie. No mom. No random guy. Where was everyone? This really did feel like a horror movie, except in this one I was trying to find the woman who lured me into this mess. I had not planned to be stranded in a house in suburban San Diego on a Sunday.
I stumbled into the kitchen, and there was Maddie, just reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.
She turned to me, smiling. “You looked so cute sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.” Apparently she had forgotten our arrangement involving me leaving.
I was frustrated but trying to be polite. “We need to leave now.”
We drove back to the hotel in silence. When we arrived Maddie turned to me to tell me that she had a good time and would like to see me again the next time I was in San Diego. I mumbled something along the lines of, “Sure, I’ll call you,” certain that there wouldn’t be a next time. She leaned in for a goodbye kiss. I had been licking my gum wounds after last night’s gnashing the whole car ride over and did not need to add to the laceration count. I gave her a quick peck to say thanks but no thanks. I can only say “yes” so many times.
The Texas Rangers are becoming the Dutch National Team of baseball. #onemoreworldseriesloss
Just became a virtual seismologist! My life is on the up and up! #pleasehelp