We stand in silence, as I sip my water, and he watches me do it.
Finally, he breaks the silence.
"I'm sorry if I... offended you by sleeping in your bed last night. This morning. Whatever."
"It's fine. You didn't do anything."
He nods, his eyes far...
"You idiot, you didn't turn anyone gay; he still likes women. He's bi. And even if he wasn't bi, and you were the first man he liked, it would be a man crush, not "turning gay".
"Actually, it has a name; it's a sexuality when you become attracted to me, and can no longer see anything else, whether you're a man or woman or a tree. It's called davechestersexuality. He's a davechestersexual now."
How full of oneself can someone possibly be? He has his own sexuality now? Really? Really?
"So you have the mainstream sexualises; heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, pansexuality; and then, you have davechestersexuality."
"I think you need to shut the fuck up," I say, laughing so hard my eyes start watering.
"Trees don't find you attractive," I state, still chuckling, reaching for the bong, feeling the urge to take another hit.
"Really? Then why do they get hard when they see me?"
"They don't," I reply, re-packing the bowl with ganja from the bag beside me, and putting it in the downstem.
"Yes, they do," he says as I light the ganja, and briefly, I look at the white smoke climbing it's way up the inside of the transparent column.
"So... pretty," I say, before putting my mouth inside the mouthpiece.
I inhale and pull the bowl out at the same time, and fuck, does it fuck me up in all the right ways.
This is exactly what I need; my mind being overrun with idle thoughts, which can be considered, on one level, philosophical and deep. No thoughts of anything that can or will hurt me; just a pain-free high.
David really helped me out this time.
"Pass it," David says when I take it from my lips.
We continue to take turns with the bong until the nub is finished.
"I'm tired," I say to David.
"I'm hungry," he replies to me.
I look at him, and he's about to close his laptop, when a question comes to mind.
"What were you doing?"
"Uh... playing with shapes."
"Can I see it?"
"Okay," he says, and turns the computer to me.
I look closely at the picture, and see that it appears to be some kind of mandala.
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