Finding a guy that doesn’t smoke weed is like searching for a leprechaun. Locating an herbally-sober man calls for a scavenger hunt. He’s the needle in a haystack. A dense percentage of my circle of friends frequently vacation on Cloud 9, and so do their networks (remember, I mingle with deep-thinking, poetic, artsy folk). I’m not judging them or knocking them for it. Puff away. I don’t have to go back home with them. I don’t want to live that life with my significant other. I really, really don’t. It’s just a personal thing. Who wants a household with lingering smells? No weed, cigarettes, cloves, blacks, cigars, anything. Wish me luck, ya’ll.