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here is half of my A-Z guide to dating dealers that vice decided to not want, enjoy. the other half will be in my next book.


I dated two drug dealers in my life the first one sold weed, the other, blow, and why did I do this? For the glory, that’s why, and the drugs, and for the love of party I guess. I didn’t NEED to be with these guys, I figured what the fuck and wrote it off as a vacation from boredom. Next time I will just get a better hobby, here’s why:


You have to appeal to a dealer’s fantasy of what a drug dealer’s girlfriend should embody, and that usually boils down to your ass and your attitude. Buddy thinks he is king of his friends and custies, so he wants a trophy to lord around, he wants his friends to want you but know they will be F’d UP if they touch, totally cliché and totally fucking true, in every drug movie you have ever seen there is the drug lady and everyone wants to plow her regardless if she is busted-looking or not, the fact that she is the dealer’s missus makes them want her MORE. Practically every friend and customer behind my bf’s back would give me horny eyes and be really into what I was saying and I got the if I fucked him vibe he wouldn’t rat, but then when bf walks back in the room I am ignored like crazy.


You have to be bitchy like a choke chain, especially to your drug dealer boyfriend – you need to right-away stand your ground firm or otherwise you will be his punching bag for the duration of the relationship. Despite it seeming scary the idea of lipping off a dealer, in actual sincerity they are scared little babies who constantly doubt themselves, their lives, everything, so you can get away with chirpin’ them all you want. The main point of the bitchy is to put custies in their place, and entertain your boyfriend to talk shit about them to pass time. A lot of customers owed my bf money and would get drugs on spot so my presence shamed them into paying up, in this case it is a bonus to have extra eyes and ears around.

Also, the business, bongs, blow.


Custies, what a dealer refers to his customers as, as a means to demean them, like his line of “work” isn’t the scum of the earth’s business. You will meet all types of people, many you would never give the time of day to in the real world, I am still trying to get the memory of their faces out of my head, greasy hair, garbage clothes, low-IQ city, slow, boring, annoying fucks. A lot of them are loner-types who schedule in their weed-purchases as hang-out burn sessions and you get in on all of it for free, always. When custies get high they like you to be there to look at, and they like you to laugh at their shitty stories. When they burn-out they go home, then more show up. Great. Your boyfriend needs you to double as the barmaid and bouncer, to get rid of them when they’re starting to feel like equals. Going on deals I got to see a lot of their houses, apartments, street corner hang-outs, the worst is when they have little toddlers running around or a crib in the living room and mangy cats. Eventually, sometime when your boyfriend is happy high he will refer to you as his partner, act really touched like you are pleased that your hard work is finally being recognized, laugh like hell inside your head.

Also, coke, duh, and clothes.

D-Delusions of grandeur

Both guys were pretty unstable but tried to appear otherwise. I remember as I was prepping to leave the second dude he was just falling to fucking pieces, he was having a mental collapse, a breakdown, crying and sobbing and hyper-ventilating on the kitchen floor. They think they own the world and the world recognizes their greatness and having cash laying around fuels the fire. You don’t have to be a dealer to be like this, it’s something you are born with and your environment and the people you surround yourself with either kills or feeds it. Selling drugs to people who are way beneath you definitely helps.

Also, dreadlocks.


Buddy has a MASSIVE ego, based on insecurities of his past, so you know you’re in for the fucking funny farm. There is nothing scarier than an unstable person with copious amounts of self-love, see D. 95% of his time is spent trying to convince people that he is superior, wiser and far more urbane than them. Some of his custies have money, legitimate funds, and your boyfriend wants to earn their respect, and he attempts to do this by way of fashion groupie-ism. Sigh. He knows everything about designer labels because counterfeit merchandise dealing is also part of the biz, and you have to pretend to be into it too. I still have some fake Gucci wallets and LV purses. Barf. One time my mom rolled up with a fake burberry purse she got in NYC and my bf just took it out of her hands to inspect the inner-seam and stitching. He also called her a cunt on the phone near the end of our relationship. I sure can pick ‘em.


You will lose all of your friends when you date this guy, anyone with a brain will be like see ya. Think of it as a holiday. Some of your friends, the pieces of shit ones, will stick around to get the drugs-convenience spill-over though. Your new friends are custies/friends of your boyfriend, which is ideal because when you dump him, you don’t want to see those people ever again. My bfs thought we would be together forever, yes we had something truly special, dude, what we had was a co-dependent abusive relationship the foundation of which was based on drugs and money and being high all the time. You will see your friends again when it’s over.


If this is ever mentioned, you didn’t hear it, you don’t know what or where it is, the end. You will be privy to a LOT of information that if you weren’t stoned immaculate (snappy Doors reference**) could make you shit in your pants. As leverage, your bf will try to instill some fear into you that if you should ever leave him, crap about “certain people” finding you, blah blah, while vaguely possible, isn’t likely, you are small potatoes. Anyway, remember a few names or faces, but as more and more time passes after you break up, you forget everything anyway, and you move on. I was left alone cos it was obvious I would keep my mouth shut, I was baked the whole time anyway, and I’m not stupid. When it’s all over you keep everything quiet – it’s part of a code. How was it obvious I wouldn’t speak? I took a lot of shit, worthy of calling the cops for and charging both guys, but I didn’t. I never saw any grow-ops though, I’m just using it as an example.


The job of the pusher is to get you hooked on his stash to keep you blitzed so you won’t leave, cos then you get to thinking oh no where will I get dope if we break up, and if you weren’t high all the time you’d realize how much of a dick he truly is, duh. A dealer also relies on the addiction of his custies and you help him make drug time, fun time. You are what junkies picture in their head when they think of getting high, you have to provide them with a space and atmosphere so that they keep coming back and forget that they’re such aimless hosers. You know when you are out at a bar and someone says the word COKE or BLOW and you have a buzz on you IMMEDIATELY want to do some? That’s what I would do except it was more like hey come over and we’ll do ‘shrooms Friday night together then when I was blasted I would strip down to my ‘kini and dance to Michael Jackson for whoever wasn’t too fucked to notice.


I dunno, intelligence? Something you will not come across very much while you are dating this dickbag. You’re going to be doing quite a bit of dumbing yourself down, you know how you have had one friend your entire life and you barely hang but when you do you turn into someone else completely cos this friend is a total ignoramus and you bring yourself down to their idiot-level, yeah that’s you and your boyfriend and everybody you come across. We couldn’t find a lighter once and this chick said we could boil water and light our smokes off the steam, ‘nough said.

Also, itching, intimidation.


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