Can a lifelong weed-hater find a strain he likes?

I've never liked weed. This confuses certain people; it's like I just told them I hate ice cream. But at the age of 21, it was a profound relief when I figured out I could just pass the joint at a party, rather than subject myself to an obtrusive, spinny high.   

Lately, though, some friends have been a little schoolmarmish about it. "You probably just smoked the wrong strain," they tell me, saddened by my laziness. In the crypto-medical, geekily specific world of dispensary greenery, you can choose your own high. 

So fine. I got high for a solid week. Seven days, seven strains, each one recommended by WW's in-house weed critics or fans. As a control scenario for this highly scientific experiment, I spent 30 minutes of each high watching the Web series High Maintenance, about a Manhattan bicycle pot-delivery man. Because science! And because the show is wonderful. 

Day 1: What's wrong with weed in general

Strain: Sour Diesel. Hybrid strain, sativa-dominant, listed on Leafly as “energetic.”

Ah, Sour Diesel, the smelly baseline weed of campfire tokers. My joints are lazily limber, my head tingly and my consciousness fuzzy; depth perception is suddenly negotiable. But I am far too aware of each effect on my body. When drunk, you're stupid, but you hardly know it after the first buzz; as on Fox News, stupidity is papered over by blissful ignorance. But with Diesel I am all too conscious of the fogginess of my reason, the smudgy scrim between thinking and doing. It is obnoxious, and it's everything I always hated about weed. 

Day 2: 99 problems, but this ain't one

Strain: Space Queen. Hybrid, sativa-forward, described on Leafly as a "head high."

Well, this is better. But oh, man, is it well-named. I think intensely about a single subject—an ex-girlfriend from four years ago, say—but the second I'm distracted I can't remember what in the hell I was on about. It's serial monomania. I solve a thousand problems and forget a thousand solutions. And then, two hours later, I miss my bus stop on my way to lunch. This high lasts…forever.

Day 3: I'd hit that 

Strain: Omega, a brand-new, sativa-dominant hybrid from Emerald Twist farm—a mix of White Widow and three other things.

None of the tranciness of the previous two. My skin tingles a bit, and I'm uncontrollably happy, as in I want to meet everybody immediately. It's like cocaine mixed with empathy and a very large appetite. I also become keenly aware that cannabis is a vasodilator: The world seems sexy. Consider this a dopamine shot to the back of the brain, delivered to a very happy lab rat. This is my huckleberry—the first joint I would bogart.

Day 4: Cottonmouth

Strain: Cherry Kush, which, according to a Leafly online reviewer, "makes you eat cheese puffs n play with your penis in front off you computer." He posted this review 17 times.

Most strains involve a dry throat, but within 10 minutes of smoking, I feel like I've got a mammal trapped in my neck. Not to mention my forehead is so numb it's like I've been Botox-ed. I am hungry, glued to a couch, barely able to swallow. It's the worst. Just: the worst.

Day 5: Smoked Nyquil

Strain: Berry White. Indica-forward, which means it's a bit of a downer.

Berry White, like its namesake, gets you straight into bed. 

Day 6: Status quo

Strain: Cannatonic. CBD-heavy (pain-relieving cannabinoid), and low on THC (high-making cannabinoid). It's medicine, man.

By now, the weed experiment has become a chore. Like anybody with a real habit, I'm having to plan my days around the time I need to get high. In any case, Cannatonic has few psychoactive effects for me, except that I become very aware of how fast my fingers move when I type. I type pretty fast. Oh, and this weed is useless.

Day 7: Make it stop

Strain: Skywalker, an indica-dominant hybrid.

This strain is all laserlike attention and narrow focus, the mental equivalent of Cyclops' visor in X-Men. Can I stop now?

Verdict: Congratulations, weed aficionados. I used to just say no. Now, I will ask 17 irritating questions—indica-sativa ratio, strains that went into the hybrid (White Widow? Niiice). And then I will probably still say no. Are you happy about what you've done?

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