Years ago, I met a guy at Double D’s in Los Gatos.
We went on a date but he reminded me of one of my creepy ex-boyfriends and so I declined another date with him.
Two years later, he asked me out again and I, forgetting how creepy I found him the first time, agreed to a date.
After our second date, we went to his place to sample some high-end wines he had in his wine cellar.
He took me on a tour of his home and showed me a special bedroom.
I know what you’re thinking.
Was it like the red room in Fifty Shades?
The answer is no.
No BDSM toys.
However. . .
He had converted a spare bedroom into a grow room for marijuana.
I have never seen such bright light and greenery.
He pulled out a HUGE mason jar that was filled with buds.
It was wild!
In my life, I’ve never seen this much pot.
I wound up leaving his apartment and never seeing him again.
In the end, my good sense got the better of me and I rethought the wisdom of getting involved with someone who (at the time) participated in an illegal activity for his livelihood.
No thank you.