The Stoner Series: A Strongly Worded Letter to my Drug Dealer

By The Betches

To my dearest drug dealer,

My heart skips a beat when I see your name pop up on my phone. You can make or break my entire day. I can handle an unresponsive boyfriend, bestie, or mother, but your manipulation tactics are so powerful that I feel my entire life revolves around you. I mean it kind of does, as you are the gatekeeper to my weed and my weed is my life. We share my most meaningful relationship and yet, I'm not even totally positive I know your real name. You are my drug dealer and we need to fucking talk.

I've spent the better part of a decade trying to track you down. Why do you text me to advertise your new “BLUE DREAM KUSH OUT 2DAY!!” yet ignore my 15 calls when I'm trying to acquire some? Why do you frequently respond to my first 3 texts then cut off communication just before closing the deal? And WHY do you tell me you'll be there in "20 minutes" when I’m clearly going to be waiting for you the entire fucking day???

I get it, reliability is not your strong suit (Roccawear is). If punctuality were your thing you would have a job instead of a backpack filled with dime bags and a go phone. But believe us, if you came through for your clientele on a consistent basis we would never look for another dealer, and you could be a weed tycoon with a giant fucking weed empire...the John D. Rockefeller of marijuana...the streets paved with weed...if you'd only fucking ANSWER ME.

Now all of this isn’t to say you never come through because if that were true I wouldn’t be high as a kite right now. But on that note, your in-person demeanor must be addressed. What should be a brief money-for-drugs exchange isn't an excuse for you to give me a 10 minute description of the agricultural origin of the weed I am about to smoke. Don’t chat me up about my evening plans. Don't tell me about your side business, I'm not interested in what you're doing when you're not answering me. And for the love of Ganj do not EVER ask if you can come into my home, you 300 pound black man.

So dealer, you have a product that I need and therefore you will always have disproportionate power over me. All I ask in our relationship is that you are sensitive to my vulnerable state respond when I text you. And even though I complain about you constantly, just think of our relationship like the one Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman have with their first children: unwanted, obligatory but absolutely permanent.

Your most loyal customers,

Stoner Betches




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