If not abusing prescription medication makes me sheltered, then yes.
I dunno; I kind of thought the same thing. You’d already given him money and a controlled substance. It probably seemed to him that the leap from those to a beej was pretty short.
That he has a prescription for because he’s being treated for generalized anxiety disorder. He is also amazingly poor, having to borrow $2 for laundry. Even though generic xanax is cheap, it’s not free. He ran out and couldn’t get a refill for a few days because of money issues. Really not a big deal.
You guys are kinda cute. I’m 55, most of the people I know in my age group have a variety of controlled prescription drugs around and none of them think twice about giving a friend a couple of xanax, klonipin, vicodin, even adderall. And none of them are drug abusers.
Like I said, kinda sheltered.
This is perfect.
Did you see his prescription?
I’d say that you nailed the explanation yourself…you already “lent” him everything he asked for…I’m sure with no questions asked…and demonstrated no normal personal boundaries, so why not at least ask?
Indeed.
I answered him right then by just asking where his girlfriend was and why me, and I have heard nothing. I don’t imagine I shall, I’m sure that having failed to say “Absolutely! I was hoping you’d ask!” he wishes he had never said anything and will do his best to avoid me altogether from here on out.
Or until he needs free drugs again.
I for one am glad poor Stoid will never know just how short. 
Is it a felony for you to dispense prescription drugs?
You ‘lend’ money to a person who doesn’t do the job for which you paid him, give him drugs, and hugs, a woman listening to his tedious, perhaps made-up tales of pathos…What was he to think? He has all of the benefits of a hippie commune, except for the sex, so, he was just trying to complete the circle.
Who cares, man? Didn’t you hear? Everyone she knows does it.
Stop being such an old fuddy-duddy. Felony’s just another word for nothing left to lose.
Uh, this from the woman who thought that mr. penis was embarrassed about openness about his poverty?
OK, OK, I admit it…I’m a square!
**UPDATE!
**
I have a new roommate, a guy. Good friend, platonic. Call him AJ. We were in his car a few weeks ago when I spotted (let’s call him “Tex”) working on a neighbor’s lawn. I had been trying to get Tex to give me a price on cleaning up my back yard for awhile before the titular incident.
My assumption was that Tex was probably feeling ridiculously mortified and would melt into a puddle of anxious embarrassment if he had to deal with me alone, but with my roommate providing a buffer zone so we could completely ignore the otherwise guaranteed awkward weirditude, it would be the ideal moment to speak to him.
So we pulled up and I called out “Hey Tex, how are you?” when he looked up, I immediately said: “Tex, this is my friend and my new roommate, AJ. AJ, this is Tex.” They greeted. Then I said: “Tex, I’ve been trying to talk to you for a few months now about clearing out the back yard. Can you tell me how much you’d charge?” And he said he’d have to come by and take a look. I told him to drop by any time. Then we left.
I made sure to be as light, as relaxed, as normal as I could possibly be, acting as though he had never asked if I were interested in sucking his cock.
Two days later, while I was asleep, the doorbell rang. I threw on a grandma nightie that a friend gave me recently, (looks like something you’d see in Little House on The Prairie, complete with ruffle at the wrist and hem, which is down to the floor). I cracked the door. “Hi, Tex…what’s up?” (I’m mash-faced and squinty, I was in deep sleep 60 seconds earlier. My hair, which I’ve let grow in very gray, is mess. In other words, I look every inch of my age and then some.)
“I came by to look at the yard…”
“Oh, okay… meet me around back…” So he went around to the back via the gate and I went to the back via my house. (Nothing has been done in the yard for a very, very long time, the growth and debris is very much out of control…huge job) He looked around, asked a couple of questions, then told me it would take about three days and he’d charge me $75. (Not per day, for the whole job. This kind of ludicrously cheap fee is exactly what I was expecting, and exactly why pursuing him to do this work in spite of The Incident is of interest to me. Funds in my world are very tight. Before the incident I would have felt badly about him doing so much work for so little, and I probably would have added $50 when he did it, but I decided that in light of The Incident, I’d pay exactly what he asked and be OK about it.)
I told him that was a great price, I’d definitely want him to do it, and I’d call when I was ready to have it done.
The whole interaction, from opening the front door to saying good bye and heading back inside, was five minutes. Maybe seven. No looks, no awkward silences, brisk discussion of business only, with a moment for admiring my pit bull puppy. He left through the gate and I went back in the house.
That was about two weeks ago.
This email arrived this morning:
:smack:
Oh shit, you had to go there again? I really want my yard cleaned up cheaply and I’d really like it if it wasn’t completely weird and uncomfortable to have you at my house for three days.
But at least he framed it as a slightly more mutual experience, rather than a servicing, and paid me a compliment in the bargain.
Strange and icky, yeah, but I’m still a woman, and I used to be a super-sexual one, so it’s nice to know a young man, even a young man who can’t spell or capitalize properly, can still see something fuckable in me, for whatever reason.
I have nothing to say. Except thanks for sharing. This one keeps getting better. Plus, “NSA” is a pretty good deal.
You do realize you’re now obligated, OBLIGATED to have appropriate music cued up & waiting for you to press <Play> when he finishes the job & comes to your door for payment.
♪ Boom-chicka-wow-wow ♫ 
Good luck, & let us know how it turns out.
Go for it!!
If you weren’t pertruding all over the place maybe he wouldn’t be hitting on you.
If you don’t nail this guy, we’re all going to be very disappointed in you.
If you can’t see much difference between asking for/offering a $2 and a xanax pill and asking for/offering oral sex, I suspect you’re the weird one, here.
I’m picturing Geena Davis and Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise…