Last Monday Samil woke up and found me in the kitchen making a smoothie. Rather than exchange our morning pleasantries (which is normally me saying Yo and him saying Whatsup), Samil informed that when he woke up this morning his sheets had blood on them.
When I was younger I would get bloody noses overnight. It happens, right? Only, Samil discovered in addition to bloody sheets, his gums had started bleeding overnight. When I was younger, my dentist told me people like Samil existed; but truthfully, I thought gum bleeders only existed in horror movies. Still, I got into the habit of flossing, just like I am in the habit of keeping a few garlic cloves under my pillow. (No, not really) (I don't floss every day)
When I came home that afternoon from work, Samil had transferred the sheets to the "Laundry Waiting Area" which apparently is the entire floor of the living room. There was actually more blood than I'd expect, but at least it wasn't End-of-Dead-Alive bloody. Also, when I went into the bathroom, there was at least 3 feet of floss balled up in the bathroom.
He went to the dentist the next day, who barely even treated him, and instead directed him to three specialists for the gums and 4 cavities in his mouth. When you think about it, that's not so bad for not visiting a dentist for six years. (That's a lie.)
Thursday, Samil took out Nancy to dinner. Of course, he smoked up before seeing her, to I guess get in the mood. They visited our local vegetarian Chinese restaurant, which has fairly reasonable prices for the food quality and quantity. I'd recommend it much more if I was a big Chinese food fan.
After dinner, the drove back to the house to part ways as she was still recovering from her
Samil did not take this well, and I think got fairly confrontational about it. Really, I'm not sure how objective his reporting on the event was, except for maybe what she said. I was en route to the fridge when he came home, about to settle in to talk to a new friend/musician who will be playing in my area this weekend. We were having a good conversation about carving a place out in the world as a professional musician. Unfortunately, as soon as I saw Samil's face I knew something was wrong, and opted for the big beer and to postpone my conversation with my new friend.
So I sat down and got comfortable in preparation for what turned out to be a two hour + conversation, ranging from the relationship to Samil feeling alienated in the world, to how pot smokers are looked down upon to the type of father he sees himself as.
Samil really liked Nancy, and didn't see this coming at all. Also, any points Nancy earned previously have to be revoked for not ending the relationship, but essentially attacking Samil. That's pretty low. Samil also thought that you have to give a guy at least two months before you pull the plug on something (as in listening mode, I didn't really comment, but damn... two months?). Also, had he known she was going to do this, he would have made her pay for her dinner (you know, that ten dollar meal is an investment.)
Samil also essentially said he was out of sync with the rest of the world and didn't know what was wrong with him. This was a pretty uncomfortable moment because well, this blog is sort of about that, right? Also, I felt really bad for him. That's a really shitty place to find yourself in on a Thursday night.
Then we talked about pot. I said something to the effect of "If you really like her, maybe you need to meet her half way on the pot. Not smoke around her, or at least keep it out of sight and all that." His response "Well, what if she just needs to get over it? And maybe I'm right about that." Okaaaaaaaay, guess the meeting halfway thing is not going to happen.
You see, Samil believes that pot smokers get a bad rap, especially from drinkers. People look at it like its a bad thing. I guess people think it's immature and all that. To be honest, I have no idea if he's right, as I do not smoke myself. I do know that if he's planning on starting a family with a woman, that woman probably doesn't want to be around someone who spends his entire Saturday refilling his bowl. That is really no different than making a baby with a raging alcoholic.
Speaking of being a father, Samil told me he would not be the typical father. For one thing, he thinks he'll call his child a half breed if he marries a white woman. (I dunno. Ask him.) He gave me one example. When his son/daughter are in third grade or so, our intrepid high school English Teacher will train the half breed to say "can I use the bathroom" to its teacher. The teacher will inevitably say "MAY you use the bathroom?" Then the child will be instructed to say "I'll take that as a yes," point backwards and walk to the bathroom.
Grade A Father material, amirite?
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