Since I got such great responses to my last dating post, because everyone loves a disaster and because I did little yesterday other than work and go see Transformers (almost 3 hours long, holy cow my attention span and I had a hard time with that one), I’ve decided to share a old, yet still epic, bad date.
Why You Don’t Mess with Crazy
We met at the gym. Yes, it has since become clear to me that this is a terrible place to meet people. But I get confused by muscles.
We head out for drinks and snacks and start the small talk. I mention my job in addiction recovery. He shares that he has a job in dealing and smuggling drugs. I laugh, until I realize he’s serious.
He extols the “mind-opening” benefits of LSD then starts a lecture about the awesomeness of hemp (does anyone rave about hemp except stoners?). After talking about hemp cars and hemp shoes and hemp children for all I know (I might have tuned out a good portion of this), he makes the following statement: “If we replaced all corn fields with hemp fields, world hunger would be solved.” I’m pretty sure there’s a little more to world hunger than lack of hemp.
The employment/hemp discussion is followed by an explanation that he was going to join the military, until he learned they give you unidentified injections when you join. Continue from “they” inject stuff in our soldiers to “they” put stuff in our tap water and “they” are dumping chemicals into the air from planes.
He ranted about 9/11 conspiracies for a good 45 minutes. He ranted about financial/global conspiracies for a good 45 minutes. He ranted about Civil War conspiracies for another 45 minutes (okay, maybe it just felt that long). He went back to the origins of mankind and explained how aliens had a role in early human evolution. I smiled and nodded my way through the early conversation, but this one elicited a “You mean like Scientology?” from me. His response? Golden: “Not at all, those Scientologists are crazy.”
Did I mention that, while sitting directly across from me, he rubbed my shoulder awkwardly for a large part of this conversation? He also referred to me as “glowing” multiple times. I’m pretty sure you only use that adjective to describe pregnant women and things that are literally glowing (nuclear waste?).
He called. The next day. To set up another date. For that day. We made polite conversation, and I casually mentioned I was heating up a sweet potato for my dinner. The result? A 30-minute phone rant about microwaves and how they are killing nutrients/the human race. I wheedled out of the conversation and said I was “busy.” Further calls were not answered.
TL;DR? I’ll be back tomorrow with your regularly scheduled food pics and vegan ramblings.