I dated a cat before I left town named Quince. He described himself as beautiful, and in a way he was very. Except his snagga grill (bad teeth which he'd get braces for) and a curiously small cranium. He'd told me that he'd started smoking at 14. He'd dabbled in crack for a few years, but that was too 'intense' so he ''went back to weed". He'd been kicked out of the air force for drugs, and yet persisted with smoking, and spending nearly $400 a week on weed. He only had one fork in his house to eat with, only wore a black or white t shirt, and blue or black dickies and boots everyday. He was 'self employed' because naturally he had a problem with authority, and when you are a contractor you don't have to take drug tests to get paid. Most minimum wage jobs don't require or threaten drug testing. But contractors are a way around the system. Quince was a hot guy, but had zero sex drive due to his involvement with that emasculating bitch Mary Jane. I used to palm his head, which he hated; it was as if his scull never grew since the age of 14. He always talked about getting buff, but whenever he was on his way to the gym, he'd get high first and not go. He didn't see how pot was keeping him from the goal of having a nice body. I would chuckle to myself thinking that being Mr. Universe and receiving critical acclaim could be his path in life, to inspire others. To talk to youngsters about health and nutrition, to be a role model to some kid. Maybe on a tour of schools he'd say something profound to a kid, that changes his whole outlook on life and he gets motivated to do great things in his life that inspires others, and so on. Quince could touch many lives; but he won't stop smoking weed so oh well. That's how the enemy operates, in a chain of events. It's not just 'hurting yourself', it's leaving high (pun intended) and dry the people who's lives you never touched because you were isolated in your weed smoking cocoon. It's an inner riddle. Road less traveled stuff.
Then there's Jebidiah. The noble one. He loves the Lord but smokes weed daily. Sometimes smokes while watching the word on TV. But sees no blasphemy. He's 41 and 'self employed'. He started the bad boy mayhem in his teens and just gave away the farm. He was one of those kids that was up to get scouted by colleges to play football, but chose to hang with his loser friends instead. I guess he was really talented and in his senior year dropped out of school to party full time. Dropout status doesn't leave many opportunities, so at 18 he was bouncing at strip clubs full time. Naturally he thought that was the coolest job in the world, what 18 year old wouldn't. The party continued. He tried to have a straight job for a while and wear a suit, but the 'rules' messed with him. And people were way too into money so he went back to the clubs. Then he met Brittany. The smoking hot college grad with a crazy Latin temper. It was all physical. Brit hated that Jeb smoked weed, and went off on him about it constantly. Brit and Jeb planned to get married, but her patience grew thin. Jeb told me many years after the fact, "She was always yelling at me about it. If she asked me nicely I would have quit." LAME! Why should someone, especially the woman who is about to spend the rest of her friggin life with you, ask YOU NICELY TO STOP USING ILLEGAL DRUGS!!!?? She left him, and he whined for like 3 years. She married some millionaire and moved to Asia, and Jeb whined. I know he wonders what would have happened had he quit smoking weed. If they would've married be now, if he'd have a successful career someplace, and lots of land? One Sunday this gorgeous Latina woman strolls into church, 'looking for her new church home' so she said. Within minutes she set her sights on Jeb because he�s the tallest and best looking guy in the church. They exchange numbers, and he's elated. A Brittany replacement! One night she calls him from her cell phone saying that she's in the neighborhood and she wants to come by. It's a strong tactic for a woman who doesn't want to get stuck with a guy who's cheating on his woman, surprise visit. Jeb, tried to thwart her, but she persists. Jeb gives in and lets her come by. She comes in stays five minutes, and leaves never to call or answer her phone, or be seen at church again. Jeb is mystified by her actions. "What happened?" he whines in the church coffee shop. I truly don't know. Our mutual acquaintance Bill fills in the blanks. "Jeb has a shabby place. His bathroom tile has been unfinished for months. The place would scare any womanaway. Well, any self respecting one anyway." I thought that was a bit harsh. I'd never been to Jeb's place myself and in the two years I'd known him, he'd never invited me either. I assumed it was because he didn't want to bed me. Alas three years into it, he wanted me to rent the place out. He had gotten a loan for a larger place and would live there, and rent the one bed for extra income. He said so he can "complete real estate training." Or could that be the lie used to cover the hole in the soul called weed? People with big monkeys to feed, use their resources to feed said monkey. And so I had to see the place, and whoa nellie it was early American ick! Bacheloresque well just say. Men don't understand details. They deal in the larger things, women pay attention to the details. Details can speak to the bottom line, the person that you are at the end of the day. So if a woman walks into the spot, and there's 6 inches of dust on a lampshade, and circles on the floor where the dogs dish is, piles of dirty dishes, and clothes in the washer molding- she is going to assume some pretty basic things about you. He doesn't get this. It's not about being superficial, it's about basic cleanliness. She wasn't having it. And most women who aren't into the drug scene, who are hard working, styling women don't take a man well into his 30's living like he's 18 lightly. The get out immediately cause life is too short. Jeb has delusion of the moguldy sort, but he smokes weed and puts things off. I rented his condo from him and he assured me the place was empty and ready to be moved into, but the day I get there the place still has furniture in it. Crap still in all of the closets, and the floors are caked with dirt and dust. All he�s done is take the bedroom furniture out and put in a new carpet in the bedroom. Tiles are still undone in the bathroom, plugs are still uncovered from when the walls were painted, making the place look unfinished. There was a mound of soggy junk mail on the back porch that he hadn�t disposed of in a year. He couldn�t shred it because if the plastic parts in the envelope. So open the envelope and shred the contents? He said he�d get everything done. But it took days! next page