I’m Dating A Pot Dealer From La Mesa

“You are so beautiful!” he said to me, when he walked in the door.
I just stood there in my poodle skirt and stupid pink shirt with my mouth hanging open. A small amount of drool began to run down the side of my chin. My response was something like “lul lul lul.” I had completely lost all of my ability to speak. I was pretty sure there was no way in Hell this Adonis was talking to me.

“My name is Darren. What’s yours?” the Greek God asked me.
“Spacy. Sorry…Pasty,” I replied, as if I had just been given a hit of morphine and was starting to drift off into a drug-induced slumber. Dammit mouth, don’t fail me now!
“Stacy!” I half-shouted at him, “My name is Stacy!” God, I’m such a dork. My whole body felt tingly-numb, and I was pretty sure I was dreaming. I stared at him and couldn’t get over the beauty of his face. It was almost painful to look directly at him.

“I would really love to take you out sometime,” he said.
Okay, where are the fucking cameras? Look, screw modesty. I’ve got good genes. I consider myself to be attractive, and I’m used to getting hit on by dudes. But Holy Shit! This is no dude. This is some sort of beautiful God who walked right off the cover of GQ and straight into the 50’s diner where I worked.

“Sure…yeah…we should totally go out.” I said. Nice one, dumbass, I thought. There you go again with your stellar verbal skills. Way to sexy him all up.
“How about Friday? I’ll pick you up around 7:00.”
Oooh, a man with a plan, I liked that. Only problem is that I was acting in A Midsummer’s Nights Dream at San Diego State and I had to be at rehearsal at 7:00.
“You know, I’m actually supposed to be somewhere at 7:00. How about we meet at the El Torito off the 8 and the 163 freeway’s at say 5:00?” I asked.
“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

As he went to sit down to eat he walked past me and I got a good look at his ass. I swear to you my vagina did a back flip. The first thing I did of course was tell every single girl, and all the gay boys I worked with, that I was going on a date with Mr. Perfect.

Friday comes and I tell my future BFF Kristina what my plans are. She lived in an apartment down the way and we knew each other through a mutual friend. My roommates were out of town, and considering no one knew I was going out with this guy I figured I better at least give someone the heads up. So I go to her apartment and let her in on the plans for the night. I tell her I’m meeting him for drinks, give her the location, and his pager number. Hum, that’s odd. I wonder why he didn’t give me his phone number? Oh well. He’s hot. It doesn’t matter.

I get to the El Torito on time and order my favorite El Torito drink. A Cadillac Margarita on the rocks, with salt. Darren is late. I hate when people are late. I wait and tell myself, when I’m done with my drink, I’m out of here. He may be beautiful, but I’m not going to sit here and wait for anybody. It’s just rude!

I’m almost to the bottom of my drink when Mr. perfect walks in the door carrying this very official looking organizer. Of course when he walks by, all the women in the room turn to catch a glimpse of my date. They were like a bunch of feral cats in heat. I thought I was going to have to get a hose and squirt these bitches down.

Mr. Perfect sits down next to me and I immediately ovulate. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Can I buy you another drink?” One more drink will make me tipsy. And late for a rehearsal for a play in which I’m the lead. And I’m already on my director’s last nerve.
“Sure, whatever you say,” I drooled.

So we’re sitting and making small talk when Darren’s pager goes off. He takes a peek at it and says to me, “I need to make a call, I’ll be right back.” He takes his organizer and heads towards the bathrooms to use the payphone. This was before cell phones. Yes, and we all drove covered wagons too.

Darren comes back and we get back to talking about how completely cool and beautiful I am. My favorite subject. Then his pager goes off again. Are you kidding me? Once again he tells me he needs to return the call. So off he goes to the payphone, organizer in hand. Now I’m just getting bored and looking at the time. Seriously, I don’t have time for this shit. Darren comes back and he is no longer Mr. Perfect. He has now been downgraded to Mr. Above Average.

He tells me that the reason his pager keeps going off is because he’s a DEA agent. Red flag! At the time, I was also dating a pot dealer I had recently met in a bar out in La Mesa. So this is not good. He’s using me to get to Sean. This is where he’s going to tell me that if I don’t cooperate with him he’s going to tie me down on the bed and do dirty things to me. I promise not to cooperate! I promise not to cooperate! Right before I completely shit myself his pager goes off again. And once again he excuses himself to the payphone, but this time he leaves his organizer. Not very smart, Darren.

I flip through the organizer while Mr. DEA is on the phone, and I find his driver’s license. The name on the driver’s license is not “Darren.” It’s “Steve.” First thing to pop into my mind is: He’s no DEA agent. He’s a serial killer! I am on a date with a frigging serial killer! The only information my friends have is his pager number. I’m so dead. He’s going to chop me up, separate my body parts into different hefty bags, and distribute them all over the San Diego area.

“Darren” comes back from making his phone call. Probably calling the knife shop to check on how the blade sharpening is coming along. Hot or not, I’m outta’ here. I tell him it’s getting late and I really need to get to rehearsal.
“Let me walk you to your car,” he says.
“NO! I mean…no, no. It’s okay. Really,” I say as I back slowly away from him. “I’m parked right in front. Right under the big lights in the parking lot. It’s very well lit. Lots of people can see me, you know, in case anybody wants to try to abduct me. I’ll be totally safe. Finish your drink.”
“Well, can I call you?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, not wanting to upset my future abductor. “Anything you want.”

I run like hell out the door straight to my car, which is not parked in a well-lit area of the parking lot at all. I put the key in the ignition and sped out of that parking lot faster than you can say DUI.

I never heard from “Darren” again, I’m happy to say. And I also broke it off with Sean too. I figured I better just stick to what I did best. Making out with random guys in bars and then leaving before they could get my name or number. Dating was just way too dangerous.

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Send questions, comments, brownie recipes or random brainfarts to: mrsdiagnosed@yahoo.com

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