Customarily, there’s at least some trust between you and any new drug dealer; it’s no different than starting with a new doctor, therapist, or Cabala wizard. Really, with any of these there’s the mutually-implied shroud of discretion, there’s at least some initial confidence in their professional opinion, and, at each one’s fundamental essence, there’s the expectation that they’ll get you feeling better. In the end, though, business is not unlike hard drinking, road trips, or marathon eating; namely, it’s always better when you’re doing it with a buddy.
Reader, I don’t know who you are or where you barter your cash and goods for your sweet, sweet narcotics. However, for this article, I’ve thought of and typified the drug purveyor as more of the cuddly, bumbling, endearingly-scatterbrained kind who lived in your dorms and still has a fiscally-unsound major like Jazz-Fusion Cooking, Recreational Mystery Solving, or Creative Writing. So, for those more accustomed to purchasing your fun from a hardened teenager slinging heroin vials to baseheads in a low-rise project, my sincerest apologies.
The first key to any relationship, drug-based or otherwise, is to refrain from adorable-izing the narrative. This is real life, not a move starring Reese Witherspoon. People meet in the actual world without it ever being charmingly quirky. Technically and invariably, the how-you-met story here is that you wanted drugs and he or she had drugs for sale. It doesn’t need to be more than that.
From there, you’ll want to manage the lingering. Don’t overstay your welcome if said merchant of pill, powder, and plant is abrasively introverted and only happy to host you for the two minutes of weighing and transactioning. On the contrary, if you’re trafficker is a delivering, nomadic type who happens to share your penchant for movies titled Blank Check, by all means invite them in to stay for a bit; it’d be impolite not to. Gauge it for yourself. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder; not being the weird, socially-inept fuck does.
Let it progress at it’s own rate. When you try to rush things people end up dissatisfied and you’ll end up botching the interview, getting in a car accident, or taking your penis out at Red Robin. Be patient, show loyalty, and eventually you two will come across some obscure bit of pop culture or 227-esque nostalgia that you’ll relentlessly bond over.
Congrats, you’re now friends, even if it isn’t Facebook-official. He or she cuts you deals when you buy and you have a standing invitation to stop over and “job shadow” whenever you want. It’s beautiful; two former strangers brought together through a love of entrepreneurial spirit, capitalism, and illicit substances. One habitually supports the other’s small business and one helps the other break up life’s monotony; one hand washes the other while both hands get totally high.
Justin Gawel is an adult baby from Michigan. Look for his updates at www.justingawel.com or follow him @justingawel on Twitter.