Dating a weed dealer

Not my favorite first-date activity, but I said I didn’t mind.

The darkness peaked when he got his hands on some particularly doomy weed. To take a line from Lorraine Bracco: I got to admit the truth. Last Halloween was a low: we bought weed from a middle-aged pregnant lady in an Olive Garden parking lot..action_button.action_button:active.action_button:hover.action_button:focus.action_button:hover.action_button:focus .count.action_button:hover .count.action_button:focus .count:before.action_button:hover .count:before.u-margin-left--sm.u-flex.u-flex-auto.u-flex-none.bullet. Error Banner.fade_out.modal_overlay.modal_overlay .modal_wrapper.modal_overlay [email protected](max-width:630px)@media(max-width:630px).modal_overlay .modal_fixed_close.modal_overlay .modal_fixed_close:before.modal_overlay .modal_fixed_close:before.modal_overlay .modal_fixed_close:before.modal_overlay .modal_fixed_close:hover:before. One day she came to my house to pick me up and started recounting this amazing experience she’d had on the drive over.Apparently, an angel had formed in the clouds and had spoken to her.

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The funny thing was, she was acting like she was privy to these amazing ideas no one had ever had before, and was getting all excited about sharing her religious message with a spiritually deprived world. It’s called Rastafarianism.” The last girl I was in love with was a pothead. I once dated someone who would smoke a couple nights a week.

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