In person (and maybe in writing) I come across as very straight-laced, but when you get to know me and I get more comfortable with you, you realize that I’m even more straight-laced than originally advertised. Just like a rebel without a cause, I’m very well behaved for no particular reason, other than it satisfies the part of my brain that gets a thrill off knowing the rules and obeying them (it’s not a very often studied part of the brain because it’s kind of boring). I don’t dress like an Amish person or anything. I wear pants and…that may be the only difference, other than I don’t look good in hats.

So my question is: Why do I attract guys on drugs? Every single guy who asked me out in 2015 was on SOMETHING. And every single one of them seemed surprised that I was not. And one of them ended our date by giving me brownies he said he didn’t want anymore and insisted I take them. Spoiler alert: I did not eat them either.

I’m not cool with drugs, I don’t spend time around people doing drugs, and I feel like that is the sort of aura I give off: drug-illiterate. Or at least drug dyslexic. I did not know that pot and marijuana were the same thing until I was well into college. And I discovered it in a conversation with my parents (who were quite pleased).

Maybe I should get in touch with all those guys again and ask them what it is about me that says, “I may look conservative in the way I dress and talk and act, not to mention in the way that I verbally say that I’m very conservative, but that’s all just one very convincing act to throw everyone – except you, you clever boy – off track of who I really am.” I have all their phone numbers still. I’m one of those people who has a very hard time deleting numbers because I live in fear of THE phone call:

“Hello?”

“Veronica?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know who this is, do you?”

“No.”

“Guess.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Come on, guess.” (BTW, when someone says they don’t want to guess, don’t make them guess. Some of us really don’t like guessing. It’s like pushing us into a car and making us drive you somewhere at gun point: It makes us uncomfortable and causes us to question the entire friendship.)

“Uh, Steve?”

“Nope.”

“Bob?”

“No.”

“Bob’s brother?”

(Voice getting a little annoyed) “Nooo. I’ll give you a hint: we went out for Mexican food.”

“Don?”

“What?”

“Alex?”

“No! I told you it’s the guy you met for Mexican food.”

“I’m sorry. I really like Mexican food.”

“Look, I’m the one who took you for Mexican food one time and when I told you about my drug use, you said it was never going to work between us.”

“I’m sorry, but that does not narrow it down. Can you tell me what drug you use?”

“Psychedelics.”

“Ohhhh, Roger.”

So I keep phone numbers until I can’t remember who the person is anymore. Then I write the number down on a piece of paper with a question mark next to their name. Then I have the number in two places and have twice as much lack of idea of who they are. It’s a great system.

To be continued…

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