Even without the cigar, she's the bees knees.
Alas, she's taken.
I had asked why she hadn't been by in such a long while. It turns out her boyfriend has been on her case about the cigar habit. He disapproves. So she humoured him.
However she had seen a recent cellphone photo that showed him cheating on her with cigars of his own, with his buddies, and she felt betrayed.
Infuriated, actually. The nerve! If it weren't for her, the shmo wouldn't even know about good cigars, he'd still be huffing those flavoured mango and watermelon stogies!
But, apparently, cigars are "unfeminine".
She's exceptionally feminine.
Very much a lady.
I congratulated her on her return, and sympathized. Many of us give up, or hide, habits that our more temperamental halves wish us to stop. I haven't seen one of my associates in ages because his husband thinks that pipe-smoking is an odious habit.
Being in love with the boy, he plays along.
It's only temporary, though.
He loves a pipe.
Eventually cigars and pipes must win. The reason being that so soothing a habit prolongs life by alleviating stress, and improves life by making us more human.
Yes, I can understand the complaints if cigar and pipe smokers pong up the family dwelling, and I'll also cross the road to avoid little children under the supervision of school staff, because they're duty-bound to voice objections. Fragile little monsters and all that. Bad examples.
We'll tone down, and step aside.
Temperance in all things.
Along with tolerance.
Balance above all.
But let's face it; if today's young near-adults don't get a chance to experiment with so gentle a habit -- one that conduces thoughtfulness and discernment -- how on earth are we ever going to end up with happy old-folks, three or four decades from now?
There will be no one to push our wheelchairs out to the designated smoking spot six blocks away from the nearest parks, grammar schools, and old folks home.
Instead there will be grim hatched faced nurse Ratchet types, bolting doors when they see us approach with our smoking equipment, screaming that they're only doing it for our own good, we're gonna live to a hundred even if it makes us miserable, smoking is nasty!
Get the little farts into tobacco now, before they turn into opinionated ignorant college kids. It will stand them in good stead while they study, and irritate the prudes and puritans trying to brainwash them.
They'll grow up wise and open-minded.
And ready to join us for a puff.
Even if it is raining outside.
I do not smoke in the house after the middle of the afternoon on my days off, because my apartment mate is a non-smoker, who would undoubtedly be upset if the place smelled like a men's club when she returned. That's only natural. And I can understand that she would not want her stuffed animals to pong of pipe fumes.
But she's not a strident missionary type, and, as we aren't physically involved, she has no problem with my smoking and smelling ab initio. She once told me that she did not want me to die young, but by now that's no longer a worry.
She's a good friend, and I tone down my more robust habits when I am around her. Not many people will get so much regard, as I tend to avoid sneering snooty types. Non-smokers are okay. Anti-smokers have a bug up their ass -- often several bugs -- and not only screech about second and third hand smoke killing them by aggravating their asthma and allergies, but they will also often proselytize for weird dietary modifications -- no meat ever, and fish ONLY on alternate Tuesdays, IF there's a full moon -- no perfumes, no Monsanto, all-natural and sharing profits with the home for vegetarian orphans, gluten-free and energy-efficient. Usually they also refuse to even consider that colourful native cultures might be murderous and consumerite.
Sustainable farming! No vaccination! Green gas!
Don't throw it out, mulch it for compost! You must separate your garbage into categories: decomposable, recyclable, re-purposable, chemical waste, plus cotton, brights, and non-imperialist!
Smoking is a dead white male habit.
Terminally unhip.
In another few minutes I shall be heading downtown, to enjoy a dinner cooked by colourful elsewhere natives that utilizes meat, in an environment where pretentious allergies are not indulged. At times the owner will be outside taking a break with a puff or two. The counter staff find my pipe a rather delightful eccentricity, and no one who works there has EVER told me that I smell bad. Maybe they might think so, but they're not out to change the world, and men are supposed to be a bit funky.
After that I'm heading over to the cigar bar.
To recycle dead leaves.
TOBACCO INDEX
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