The love of my life was a girl named Jane, who I met in college. It was an all-consuming love, or at least it was on my part. I came to find out that Jane didn’t love me on that level, and was creeped out with how much I fawned over her. Looking back I see how cringey it all was, but at the time I was caught up in wild emotions. I bring this all up because Jane reached out to me over Facebook last week, after twelve years of no contact. I was stoked at first, but then realized she was only talking to me because she needed to score some cannabis and didn’t have access to local dispensaries. She wasn’t a resident of this state anymore, so although medical cannabis is legal she didn’t have the documentation to buy it, and she knew I did. Of course, someone buying weed legally from a cannabis dispensary and then selling it for a profit is highly illegal. She knew that and was willing to pay well over the market price if she could get some Blue Dream, or another high-octane strain of cannabis flower. I struggled with the decision of helping her or not, and it wasn’t about the cannabis laws, it was about my feelings. Was it worth dredging up all those old emotions just to help her get cannabis? Then I realized that I stood to profit a hundred bucks off this cannabis sale, and I really needed that money so I decided to go for it.