Dude, Where's My Boyfriend?

You may not know this about me, but a long time ago, in a far-off galaxy, I worked for High Times magazine. I was managing editor, which is a thankless, godawful job even in functional workplaces, but at a magazine staffed exclusively by stoners—well, basically your job description devolves into "shrieking harridan." After a couple years of screaming, nagging, and yelling, I had to get out of there for sanity's sake. I'd never been a big pot smoker before I worked there, and being forced to rely on stoned co-workers made me even less of one. But I did make some good friends. Steve Bloom, co-author of Pot Culture: The A-Z Guide to Stoner Language and Life (Abrams Image), is one of them. The other day he forwarded this funny religious-message-board conversation started by a God-fearing Christian girl smitten with a devotee of the evil weed. I'm going to paraphrase her letter here: Is it bad to date a pothead? I have very high values and morals, but I really like this guy and he happens to smoke weed. I know my youth-group minister would really disapprove. Should I keep seeing him or should I break up? Some of the people who responded were sensible, pointing out that marijuana is just a plant and God probably wasn't going to strike him dead for smoking it. One person advised her to pray for his soul. Another scolded her for the lust in her heart. Because they tend to listen to jam bands and wear Birkenstocks—two things I find utterly abhorrent—I haven't had much experience going out with serious potheads. Even the weed delivery guy I was banging for a while didn't toke up. I mean, my current bf smokes it every now and again, but that's usually when he's watching a movie that lends itself to the sensation. He can't be trusted in the grocery store if he's stoned, but other than coming home with an inappropriately large selection of salty and sweet snacks, I haven't really been bothered by his occasional weed-huffing (this would definitely not be the case if he started in with the wake 'n' bake). Steve, however, is an unrepentant pothead. I asked him if he ever dated women who have a problem with his habit. "I won't date a tobacco smoker," he tells me. "And there's a woman I'm interested in who doesn't like pot smoking, and so it's really kept us from getting together." My buddy Kate lived with a weed dealer for a few years, so I asked her to share a few positive points about her pothead paramour. "She was financially stable. I was still smarting from a relationship in which I'd paid my girlfriend's student loans—but Jenny always had waaaay more cash than I did. In neat wads of $20's, $50's, and $100's." Kate says that Jenny also fit the stereotype of laid-back and mellow, which is nice to be around. Besides, Kate reports, "the one time I wanted to make pot brownies I didn't have to go far—or pay." Also nice. What wasn't so nice was Jenny's arrest for dealing. "I had to bail her out of jail—with her own money, of course." Is it just me, or does getting busted for pot seem kind of retro? Like maybe the pigs would find my lid of maryjane after I'd burned my bra, or some shit. So basically I think we've reached the conclusion that, in the grand pantheon of drug users, potsmokers are fairly benign—certainly not as annoying as drunks or as depressing as junkies. In order to be a little service-y, I asked Bloom how one might go about picking up a ganja guy or gal. "Go to a pot rally and break in on a stoner circle," was his advice. "Stoner circles tend to be all guys—you know how guys gang up together—any girl who breaks up the guy stoner circle—she's golden. Just ask for a hit." So hey, little Christian girl, if this dude doesn't work out, there's more where he comes from. dategirl@seattleweekly.com

 
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