A Valuable Piece Of Dating Advice: Whatever You Do, Never Hit A Marijuana Dab Rig On A First Date
Shutterstock Images.HappyValley.org - A dab rig is a device, typically glass, designed for cannabis concentrates, as opposed to cannabis flower. There are a variety of styles of dab rigs, ranging from simple “dab straws” (a tube of glass or quartz, heated at one end to smoke concentrates with) to electronic dab rigs.
For the old school smokers and gonja novices out there the idea of a dab rig might be foreign to you. It is a glass bong looking structure that you smoke THC concentrates out of. Basically it's the tool you use when you have zero need for arm mobility or brain function for the next 4 to 6 hours.
It's the level of aggressive smoking you use when a normal "let's eat all the chips in the cupboard and giggle while we watch Cartoon Network" high just won't do. And this is why you should NEVER do a dab the first time you hang out with a girl after hours. Let me tell you from experience.
Recently I went out for a Sunday Funday of sorts. The type of day that starts in the afternoon with brunch and mimosas and quickly devolves into shots, debauchery, and pizza by the evening. Some of my favorite days of the summer I must admit. On this particular day a buddy of mine said he had a chick he wanted me to meet.
Feeling full of Jameson and confidence I said let's do it. Now I'm not the type to get sloppy drunk. Most of the time you can't even tell I'm in the bag. It's a gift/curse type of situation. I don't make an ass of myself in public but I also have tons of conversations that probably shouldn't take place. I often wonder why I didn't just go home earlier.
Anyway, we head to this girl's house and immediately the people I'm with start partaking in a community activity that was a favorite of Charlie Sheen. The kind that deviates the strongest of septums. A hobby of snifflers and cheek chewers everywhere. That's never been my thing so I just kind of hung out and tried to not look like a narc.
As I stood there, listening to a group of people fire 13 different conversations at each other like an old school game of Crossfire, the girl pulled me into the other room. She was hot and I was excited. This was way easier than I remembered. The old dog can still hunt apparently.
But what she pulled out was not what I expected. She pulled out a dab rig. "I thought this might be more your speed," she said with a large smile and even larger dilated pupils. "Oh hell yeah," I said feigning enthusiasm.
On the one hand I had been out all day and just wanted to sleep. On the other hand I have primal urges that need to be quelled. I wasn't going to let some silly little bong looking contraption stop me from the ultimate prize. So had her pack a dab and I ripped that shit like Hulk Hogan with a yellow tank top. I mean I fucking riiiiiiipped it.
The five minute coughing fit that came next was immediately followed by teleportation to the drool phase.
It became immediately clear that the little bong looking device was in fact going to keep me from my goal for the evening. As I leaned against the wall, eyes filled with tears, and sweat pouring down my forehead, my buddy looked over and saw the dire straights I was in. After all, he brought me here. It was only right to get me out. No man left behind.
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He said he would order me an Uber and I thanked him the best way I could in that moment: By grunting and half nodding while my eyes rolled in the back of my head. After about five minutes he said my Uber was outside and he and the girl walked me out. I mumbled something that I prayed came across as halfway coherent and got into the Uber.
The second I shut the car door the driver turned around and said, "are you serious, pal?"
What the hell was this? I just got in the damn car did I look THAT bad? This night was already a disaster, I don't need you passing judgement on me as well! I gathered myself enough to give him a thumbs up. He shook his head in disappointment and backed out of the driveway. What transpired next is amongst the most embarrassing moments of my life.
He drove about eight houses down and stopped at a stop sign. I looked around and realized I recognized the area. Familiarity swept over me. Oh thank god, I must be relatively close to home I thought.
He made a left at the stop sign and immediately my stomach fell to my feet. About another 200 feet up he made another left at a stop sign and then pulled into the second driveway on the left. I was home. And I had just rode an Uber less than 1000 feet from the last house to get here.
I sheepishly exited the Uber trying not to make eye contact and hoping to god he was the only one who realized just how close these two houses were in proximity. As I stepped out of the car door I looked up and there they were. Everyone at the last house standing on the third floor patio, less than a 9-iron shot away, laughing and waving as I stood in my own driveway.
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Before I could realize what I was doing my hand raised from my hip, my two fingers went to my forehead, and I gave them a salute. A fucking salute.
There are positives and negatives to every story. The positive here is that I have avoided all after hours spots since the incident. The negative is that everyone in the neighborhood now salutes me and laughs like I'm a mentally disabled boy in a sailer outfit. Oh well, you win some and you lose some. And on this day I most certainly lost.
Follow me @WillBurge for more stupid shit like this.