I ask you on a date. To sit in a car.
And smoke weed. You have to pick me up. I getsin. The air that wafts to your side of the car when I shut the door is slightly musty. I talk while I’m rolling up. My nails are dirty. My clothes are dirty. I say I’m not like these other dudes. I light up a perfectly pearled blunt. The aroma of the blue Dutch masters fills your car. I pass it to you. The tip is wet.
You hit it twice and pass it back. I’m still talking. This time about some business proposal I’ve been working on that definitely sounds like a pyramid scheme. I say I’l be rich one day. I’ve been holding the blunt so long that he has to relight it. I apologize and passes it back to you.
You hit it twice more. I ask if it’s gas.
You’re not even high yet. I then try to kiss you. I didn’t brush my teeth before getting in your car. It’s 9pm. I ask why you’re acting “shy”. I had you drop me off when I realize you won’t have sex with me in the back of your own vehicle. I asked you on a date.