You Around?
The worst breakup of my life was with my weedman.
A year ago, he ghosted me without warning.
It started with one unanswered “You around?” text. At first, I was cool. Plugs get busy. Phones die. People make the mistake of taking vacations without clearing them with VIPs like me. I get it.
Then I found out he was still serving people I knew.
His phone worked. He had weed. Just not for me.
That’s when it stopped feeling like bad customer service and started feeling like heartbreak. I’ve been dumped by three women I loved, and none of those breakups hurt like losing my weedman. Those women gave me reasons. My plug gave me silence.
A good plug is like a good barber. He knows your taste, your budget and exactly what “something good” means. You don’t explain shit. You trust him to get you right. That kind of relationship is hard to replace.
All I wanted was an answer to one question: What do you do when your weedman ghosts you?
I apologized, begged, got angry, searched for replacements, smoked mids and eventually went sober. Ten songs followed me through every stage. I didn’t make the playlist. The breakup did.
This is the step-by-step story of my fall from grace. Read the chapter. Then press play.
01
What the FUCK Just Happened?
Realizing I had been dumped fucked me up
There had been no argument. No warning. No final bag for closure.
I found myself listening to the same song over and over again, and I didn’t know why. Something about hearing PnB Rock sing “Girl, you’re making it hard for me” soothed the shattered pieces of my soul.
02 Did I Do Something Wrong?
Once the shock wore off, panic moved in.
Was I ordering too little? Texting too late? Did “good looking” sound ungrateful?
I didn’t know, but I was ready to buy bigger bags, drive farther and stop asking “How long?” every ten minutes just to get him back. I was willing to change everything about myself for one more chance.
Somehow, Hoobastank had already written the apology I didn’t know how to send.
03 Please Come Back. I Need You.
The apology in my head had become a plea.
I didn’t just miss the weed. I missed our two-minute delivery conversations. He asked how I was doing, what I thought of the last pack and which terps I wanted next. That man cared more about what I had to say than some of my best friends.
Now what did I have? NOTHING!
Mariah Carey had turned the silence into a full-blown emergency. By the second chorus, calling from another number started to feel completely reasonable.
04 You Know What? Fuck Him.
I was still in my feelings, and ice cream seemed like the only cure.
Then I walked into the scoop shop and saw my plug glowing like an angel. I thought I was hallucinating.
The universe had finally given me a chance to fix everything face-to-face.
I walked over smiling. He walked past me like we had never met.
What remained of my soul left my body. I ran to the car like a child and blasted Eamon’s “Fuck It” to drown out the sound of me sobbing.
05 How Hard Can It Be to Find a New Plug?
Fuck him. I had friends. I would be fine.
I texted one homey to see if I could jump on his order. No response.
Another changed the subject.
I went through my entire friend group and couldn’t get anyone to link.
Nobody said no. They just found convenient ways not to fuck with me.
What the fuck did everybody know that I didn’t?
I was living inside a horror movie.
06 Damn. It’s Bad Out Here.
Fuck my friends. I didn’t need them. I could score my own pack.
Or at least I thought I could.
Terrible weed. Exotic prices. Bad attitudes. No delivery. Short eighths.
I never realized how bad it was out here. My plug had been protecting me from this shit.
I couldn’t handle one more bag of Bubba that looked beautiful and smoked like printer paper.
No. I can’t go for that.
07 I’m Sober and Dead Inside.
A tolerance break was better than another bag of mids.
I was forced to the sidelines like my ACL was torn.
Food tasted horrible. Movies weren’t funny. Life had lost its color.
Adele sounded like she was singing at my funeral. Somewhere in that grief, she promised I would find someone like him.
I didn’t believe her.
08 Did I Just Win the Lottery?
I was across town, avoiding reminders of my old life, when I met an emo girl.
She smelled amazing: Love Spell and Kush.
I asked if she had a plug. She said yes, then bragged about how great he was.
Yeah, right! I had been lied to before.
I only agreed because she was smoking hot and I wanted to hook up.
We met up with her plug, grabbed some food, and went back to her house to chill.
I cracked open the pack expecting more mids. Then I took the first hit.
Goddamn. Is this that SHIT?!
Our food was delicious. The movies we were watching had me in tears.
Wait. Is the Mack back?
09 This Feels Like the Good Old Days.
I tasted everything on her plug’s menu. Every strain was A1.
The consistency. The terps. The confidence that whatever he handed me would get me right. It felt like meeting my old plug for the first time all over again.
Usher met somebody who reminded him of his ex and walked away. He’s a dumbass.
I kept buying weed.
Being reminded of my old plug didn’t make me want him back. It proved I didn’t need him anymore.
Look at me healing and shit.
10 Baby, I’m Back.
Eventually, my new plug and I made it official.
I no longer needed the hot emo girl to middleman. We exchanged numbers and built something of our own.
He’s all mine now.
My trust in humanity was restored.
When you survive heartbreak and find love again, put your arms around whoever is closest and start swag surfin’.
Happy Anniversary
One year later, my new plug and I are still going strong.
My last relationship taught me to treat this man better.
If your weedman recently disappeared, stay strong. I made it. You can too.
But before you ask, NO, I’m not sharing my plug with you.
Find your own, you fucking degenerate!