No matter where I go, or what I’m wearing, drug dealers find me.
I had a lovely evening with friends who wanted to celebrate my birthday. Afterwards, I headed to a spot that was playing live music. I was wearing a modest bandage dress and a pony’s worth of fake hair, so it didn’t take long for several men to approach me. I struck up a conversation with a white man who just finished reading a book about business ownership. We talked for a minute about the trials and tribulations of owning your own business. As I said goodbye, I cried out, “well at least you’re not a drug dealer!”
“Oh, I sell drugs as well! What do you need?” he stated with a smile. He was only half joking.
He implied he sold weed and cocaine.
“Don’t you feel guilty?,” I asked.
“Because you’re selling substances that ruin people’s lives.”
“McDonalds ruins lives. Cigarettes ruin lives. I’ll sell anything to anybody.”
I looked him up and down. Unlike the black drug dealers I’ve met, his clothes looked ran over. He looked 7 years older than me, even though he was 2 years younger. He even had gray hair! It seemed to me that he himself was addicted–not to the products he sold, but to his own hustle.
I love a man who is about his business. I love a man with a legitimate hustle. But I don’t like to see men who are controlled by their desire for money.
Don’t let the hustle run you.
I will never know why drug dealers find me. I have never smoked weed or done other types of illegal drugs. Yet, this man was talking reckless, trying to impress me. A real g wouldn’t have said a mumbling word, not even to a high maintenance, pretty girl like me.
I wish I could make money off of my ability to attract drug dealers. In fictional accounts, the feds use a pretty woman to lure big time drug dealers to tell all.
But I’m not a snitch. And I’m not about that life.
As it turns out, I’m not about “the life” either. I just reread parts of The Coldest Winter Ever. I shudder to think about diamonds being snatched from me because a man was dealing. Or ending up in prison because some man involved me in his business. Or, like Winter’s mother, taking a bullet in the face from the competition.
No drug dealers for me, thank you.
this may be the only thing that nancy reagan and i have in common!