Dating Disaster #2 or getting back on the horse

So this dating disaster comes from when I was living in Eugene and pretty much on a constant rebound from a non-existent relationship. So I was on the CL a lot. As you read these dating disasters you will probably say to yourself, Hey, why didn't she give up on this shit? I am not entirely sure. But I think it was the Secret allowing me to have material for these blogs, years later.
So I met Will from the CL and we went out and it was a pretty normal, standard date. He was kind of cute, nice, etc. so I decided we should go out again. He took me out to dinner, we had a nice time, and he paid, which is always a bonus since I seem to not really date monied types. However, he was kind of cagey about what exactly he did for a living. I knew he lived out on a farm with the dude who owned the property, but that was about it.
Then on our next date he came over, and in lieu of a bouquet he brought me some marijuana.
"So, you grow pot, right?" I finally asked. I had been developing the suspicion for some time, based on the facts available.
He got paranoid in a way that only someone involved in the drug trade can be. He looked around with shifty eyes, checking for the DEA or a wire,"How did you know that?"
"Well..." I responded "You don't have a job, but somehow you make money...on a farm...and then you just brought me some of the freshest weed I've ever seen....all signs point to slingin' dope."
It was also on this date that I learned that his roommate was a heroin user. And I don't remember if it was also this date in which the roommate called Will to see if he wanted to smoke some heroin when he got home. But it was either that time we hung out or the following one.
I'm pretty loosey goosey when it comes to drug use. I've certainly done my experimentation (some would call it "abuse" or "addiction". Semantics), never with heroin, but far be it for me to judge.
So Will leaves my apartment and heads home to smoke china white out of a lightbulb on his pot farm. I called him later in the week, but didn't hear from him for probably about 10 days. When he finally resurfaced I asked what he had been up to.
"coming down," he answered.
That was our last date. Not by my choice though. It's probably redundant, but my standards are kind of low, and I have the self-respect issues. So Will just kind of vanished. I can only assume that his body is now decaying amid rusted gear and the flora of a cannabis farm, a needle stuck in his eyeball due to the lack of any remaining viable veins.