Still creepy

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.

Holy shit!

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.

Still creepy.

Now criminal.

No thank you.