Blowhard.
Saturday was my 66th birthday. After celebrating by eating THREE(!) stupidly delicious deserts by Brant, the genius pastry chef, and drinking a nice Allagash Curieux, at Gross Confection Bar, I headed off to Blackstone’s. It’s our one real gay bar in Portland now and gets pretty crowded on weekends. Still it didn't take me long to snag a seat at the bar. I’m 5‘3“ and I feel more comfortable and visible raised up a bit on a bar stool. And did I mention I'm old?
It also didn't take very long, of course, to be accosted by a local windbag. "Oh, look who it is!" he bellowed. I'm not exactly sure what he meant by that because I think I've only seen him on Grindr or Scruff or something. I'm pretty positive we've never spoken in person. Like a typical pothead, he almost immediately started talking about that most tiresome of subjects: weed. My eyes glazed over. I've had this tedious conversation many, many times. I have nothing to say other than that I don't smoke it because I don't like the pot high. (BTW, I think it should be completely legal.) I'm convinced at this point that pot changes heavy users' brains so they don’t believe anyone could possibly dislike pot. They appear to not understand that possibility at all. To a man/woman, they suggest that I just haven‘t tried the right strain yet, as this guy did. Because of course he did.
You know, in my 66 years I‘ve smoked enough pot to know that it‘s not for me. I‘m OK with that. What these folks are really suggesting to me is that I should continue having unpleasant experiences—and they‘ve very nearly all been unpleasant!—until I find that elusive perfect strain for me. No thanks. It‘s simply not a priority for me. Please stop asking! Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more boring to me than weed talk. I don't walk up to people I barely know in bars and start chattering about bourbon and beer, do I? Please, Mary.
He went away. For a while.
When he returned, he pretended to be interested in my views on current events and that's when he became a real blowhard. Lucky me. He asked what I thought was our most existential threat. Country? World? Humans? Gays? He didn't specify. Off the top of my drunk head, I said “Climate change.” (It could have been any number of things but that, unchecked, will kill us all.) His response was “REALLY? That‘s what you think is the most dangerous? Climate change??” with a roll of his eyes. He went on pooh-poohing everything I said, offering no views of his own, just asking more questions. It was infuriating. I finally said "You know, you‘re acting like a superior asshole right now and obviously trying to humiliate me. I'm not interested in continuing to talk to you anymore." Thankfully, he just walked away without saying anything. Importantly, he didn't deny it or try to defend his ridiculous behavior. I guess he owns it.
I'm grateful that the good feelings that began earlier in the night then just continued. I didn't end up screaming at this asshole, and getting kicked out of the bar. Thanks, Jim Beam!
PS. As I‘ve said many times, I don't like pot but I think it should be completely legal. Just please, stop talking to me about it! I‘m also now a big fan of CBD. I‘ve been using CBD oil daily for about a year now and it‘s made a huge difference in my life. I noticed after about a month that I was sleeping better and was much less depressed and irritable. I don‘t hobble around my apartment in pain from a herniated disc every morning as I did before I started using it. That discomfort is completely gone! I was really skeptical but I‘m a convert. And there is nothing resembling a pot high when I use it. I recommend it highly. YMMV, of course!
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