How to Break Up With Your NYC Weed Dealer

If you’re anything like me, then you have a long-time weed dealer in New York City. Let’s call mine Dex.

Since the day my cousin texted me his phone number in a pinch, Dex has supplied me through two boroughs, four jobs, five separate regular meeting points, a marriage, and, for each of us, the birth of a child. This man once met me, on his insistence, outside of a hospital while he was visiting an ill relative. It’s a relationship that’s endured through so much – granted, in quasi monthly three-minute-long intervals (fifteen seconds for exchange, remaining two minutes and forty-five seconds of shit-shooting, for optics.)

However, with the legalization and retailing of marijuana on the horizon in New York (yippee!), Dex – along with many of the other hard-working Dexes out there – will be rendered obsolete. The time will come when we’re all saying goodbye to shady street dealings and hello to anesthetized storefronts. Adios, black market; hello, cannabis market shares.

Courtesy: Unsplash

But it won’t be without casualties. A familiar, trusty(ish) breed of curbside entrepreneur will become redundant in the progress. And it will mean, at some point, calling it quits on your Dex.

With that in mind, here are some friendly tips for softening the blow when breaking up with your longtime weed dealer:

1. Bring out the old, “It’s not you, it’s the burgeoning economics of anti-prohibition legislation” line.

2. Recommend moving to a legalization holdout state such as Tennessee or South Carolina. Actually, that’s ridiculous. Just recommend time travel instead.

3. Type up a professional reference letter they can use to procure new clients. Choose a classy font like Bookman Old Style.

4. Open with a joke. Or a hug. Or a joke into a hug, that way they’re hit with both the funny and the poignant.

5. Hand them a job application to Wahlburgers Weed Joint, for whenever that becomes a thing.

6. Recite a sonnet extolling their many virtues.

7. Name a star after them. Yes, it’s cheap and utterly meaningless but…

8. Sorry, I have nothing after that “but.”

9. Don’t not sing them a Bryan Adams soundtrack ballad.

10. Suggest selling LSD. (If they already sell LSD, suggest ketamine. If they already sell ketamine, suggest bear tranquilizers. Untapped market.)

11. Knight them.

12. Buy them a $25 gift card to Dick’s Sporting Goods.

13. Sell them on concept of an alternate dimension where they are Sovereign Ruler of Jerseyorkticut.

14. Tell them you died in 1987 and you’ve actually been a ghost the entire time you’ve known each other. Then tiptoe away backwards to sell it.

15. Shake their hand and say to them, “Your commitment to the job during the pandemic has made you every bit as valuable as postal workers, delivery people, and Verzuz. Thank you for helping make life slightly more tolerable. I’m sorry that you won’t matter any more.”

I know what you’re thinking. “Who asked for these tips?” No one. Literally no person. So, take this advice as you like. Or go ahead and do what you were going to do to your loyal, stalwart pot dealer anyway: ghost them without thinking twice.

Courtesy: Unsplash