The Autobiography Of A Non-Smoker Who Kind Of Smoked . . . Part Three

Cigars Are For The Bigger Boys

Where am I now?

Hmmm . . . yup, we’re still in early 2003 (I was eighteen years old). Not only was I getting free cigs from my mates, I also got hooked up with two cigars. They were individually wrapped up; never came in packets like cigarettes.

I took both of the cigars with me for a night out with my co-workers. The plan was to get drunk as usual, but this time I was going to pull out a chunky cigar and pose like I was the top dog. It would have worked a treat if I wasn’t dating one of my co-workers at the time. She never smoked, so anytime I went out with her and started drinking I wasn’t allowed to grab cigs and light them up. She’d get on my case about it and always threatened to dump me if she caught me smoking . . . in fact she threatened to dump me over a lot of things.

A whole bunch of colleagues went to a bar and I got a little bit drunk. My girl (not the same girl from the part two) was around somewhere, doing something which didn’t concern me. I wasn’t exactly protective of her. I found a sweet spot, chilled on a stool and got a cig from a girl who had a crush on me at the time. She had never seen me smoke before, so when she gave me the cigarette she wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do with it.

I wasn’t a smoker remember.

Her eyes lit up when I put the cig between my lips, sparked the lighter and inhaled. She turned to one of her friends and yelled “He’s smoking!” They made an unnecessary scene out of it; I had to keep my cool whilst keeping an eye out for my girl.

I drank some more and chilled with the girls for a little bit while flirting, a few more people joined us and I took on the role of the funny guy . . . I was now ready to pull out the cigar.

. . . Then just as I did my girl tapped me on the shoulder and gave me a stern look . . . ‘I heard you were smoking. If you smoke that nasty cigar then I’m going to break up with you.’ She looked serious when she said it. However, I was fed up with her continuous threats . . . I knew I could have had my cake and ate it . . . but I decided to put the cigar back in my pocket. Just to keep the peace of course . . . I wasn’t scared of her!

So later that night I was walking home alone. The sky was dark but clear, and the fresh night air was helping me to sober up. It was time to puff a fat cigar. I reached into my inside pocket and felt the cold chill of disappoint run through my face. My hands were rubbing tobacco . . . there was only one cigar in my pocket and it had split in half.

The pace of my walking slowed down as I focused on a shattered dream (overly dramatic I know, but I was genuinely disappointed). I had hid this cigar in my room for about month and now it was split in two. I shrugged it off, threw the useless half across the street and lit up the good half with the butt on it.

Another worthless smoking experience, the cigar lasted quite a few puffs but I had no audience. What was the point?

Now that smoking is on the verge being banned from public places I felt like I had to write this memorial. Smoking never gripped me; that was never my intention. I’m glad that I flirted with the idea and absconded my curiosities at a ‘mature’ age . . . not liking cigarettes also kept me in check.

All you’ve read is pretty much all I smoked; minus the odd cigarette here and there. They are a group of isolated incidents which I’m in no rush to repeat or forget so I writ them down as a reminder to myself . . .

July 1st 2007 - UK Public Smoking Ban

A to the . . .

The Autobiography Of A Non-Smoker Who Kind Of Smoked . . . Part Two

Half Baked

My girlfriend (the ex from part one) wasn’t a bad girl; she was sweet, funny and a little bit off the wall at times; but certainly not bad. Well I never saw her dark side at least. The same girl did try to get me high though, not so innocent after all. She didn’t only puff on tobacco; she liked the green leaves also.

I never used to drive back then so after our dates we would stroll around the streets delaying ‘home time’. Chatting about whatever, and sharing more than a few jokes. We ended up walking through a quiet residential area and she pulled out a joint she had rolled earlier.

I didn’t like the fact that she smoked, or that she got high either. It didn’t bug me enough to break up with her so it wasn’t really a big issue at all. The pros outweighed the cons.

‘I want see what you’re like when your high’, she said it with a suggestive smile. ‘Light it up then’ I replied. She didn’t think that I would try it, she thought I was just messing about . . . she wasn’t aware that I had tried ‘funny’ cigarettes before. I kept my cool and played it off like it was nothing. She took the first hit and passed it to me. Her face had a huge grin plastered on; I took a drag, inhaled and exhaled blowing the smoke just past her face, as if to confirm that I had taken it in.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked. I felt normal, as if I had just finished a glass of water. Her face was clearly disappointed so she handed me the joint once more, ‘Do it again, you didn’t do it properly.’ I took another hit, deeper this time. I inhaled with my mouth open so she could follow the smoke into my lungs, and exhaled. She stared for a short while . . . ‘how do you feel now?’

I felt normal. Drugs are a disappointment.

OK, rewind back to 2003 . . . you remember my friend who generously handed me cigarettes at will right?

Well . . . he had his own flat for about 3 or 4 months. He got hooked up by one of his dads friends who had decided to move in with his girlfriend. My friend got the flat for £20 a week . . . great init?

He also inherited a massive tub of weed (cannabis). The chunk was larger than a tennis ball.

It was also drier than sand in the desert! It must have been older than both of our combined ages. We didn’t know what to do with it so we waited for another buddy to come around with his roll up skills. Four of us ended up sharing the joint . . . we puffed, puffed and puffed . . . no one got high . . . might as well have rolled up begonias.

It wasn’t until a month later that I felt the hit of drugs. The same friend (it’s a good thing that I don’t hang around with this guy anymore) asked me to meet him at his aunt’s house before we went out to a club. His aunt had generously rolled up a little treat for us. It wasn’t weed though, it was some dirty cheap stuff, and I think its called Ash, Skunk or Punk. It’s like black soot.

I should have said ‘no’ when he asked me to try it, but there were three of us there and I didn’t want to be chilling out with two stoned guys trying to make sense of their ramblings . . . I wanted to be rambling too.

I will never try that sh*t again as long as I live! It was nasty, went straight to my head and felt like I had been punched between the eyes. That junk slowed me down, I didn’t even want to go to the club when we left . . . I just wanted to wash that junk out of my system, or sleep it off.

I was disappointed in myself for trying it, what was I thinking? It wasn’t like me to even be smoking cigarettes, talk less of class C drugs. OK, it’s not exactly heroin or cocaine, but it was stupid nonetheless. I knew I wouldn’t have a problem with it even if I did enjoy the high (which I didn’t); I just wanted ease my curiosity and be able to say that I had done it. Well I think that’s what I was thinking at the time . . . who actually wants to be a stoner?

Evidently I didn’t do enough drugs to lecture anyone against it, but you don’t need dementia and hundreds of needle pokes in your arms to say that drugs are bad. Go and watch Requiem For A Dream.

Part 3 (yeah there’s more) coming up next.

A to the . . .

The Autobiography Of A Non-Smoker Who Kind Of Smoked . . . Part One

I wouldn’t say I was ever a smoker; I had a few puffs in my time that’s all . . . quite a few puffs actually.

On the 1st of July 2007 a public smoking ban will be enforced in Britain. It’s about time if you ask me . . . filthy habit. This doesn’t mean that the public will not be allowed to smoke. It means that they will not be allowed to smoke in public. It pains me that I have to make this clear.

Apart from being able to leave a bar without smelling like cigarettes I’m not too sure how else this will affect my life.

I have fond memories of cigarettes, and I rarely smoked. I can vividly remember most drags and a little story that came along with it.

I had my first smoke in 1992; I was seven years old at the time. I was hanging out with my sister and two other friends; it was a cold and wet day. The kind of day where kids don’t play outside; they stay at home making noise and disturbing the domestic peace. We found our way outside though, for one reason only. One of our buddies had found a packet of cigs which had one remaining. I didn’t think to ask him where it was found, I just wanted in on the action. The four of us hid under a staircase which led up to a flight of flats where they lived . . . this was literally at the side of my house. Not a good move.

We sat in a circle and passed the cigarette around. It looked like fun until my turn came along . . . I didn’t know how to smoke. I sucked on the butt and nothing came out . . . lame. I exhaled anyway hoping that some smoke would appear . . . nothing. The cigarette was taken from me and I never held it again.

The fact that I never actually smoked didn’t stop my mum from giving me a beating for smoking. This was quite unjust if you ask me. We were unaware at the time but our friend’s mother had spotted us. Didn’t she know the street code? You don’t Snitch!

A Decade Later

My first real smoking experience never came until I was eighteen (early 2003). I’ve always had a firm personal stance against smoking, filthy habit. Drinking? . . . Now that was a whole different ball game. I would go to bars with my friends and get drunk; after I got drunk I would mellow out in a corner or facedown on a stool by a table and get all reflective about my life. PARTY ANIMAL!!! . . . not quite.

My best friend at the time had recently taken up smoking. I asked him for a cigarette and like most friends who want the best for you he obliged, and handed me a lighter with it.

It burned my throat when I first inhaled. He told me this was normal because I had ‘Virgin Lungs’ . . . meh . . . the next few drags felt better . . . then the next few cigarettes felt better.

This process continued for a few months. I would go out, get drunk and then mooch free cigs from my mates.

I was so close to becoming a smoker and I didn’t even realise until one day I strolled past a corner shop and wanted to go inside to buy cigarettes. I didn’t have enough money on me and was too lazy to go and withdraw cash. That’s when I realised that I had better stop all of this smoking nonsense before I actually became a smoker.

The problem is that I never had a serious problem. I literally quit just like that, it wasn’t even an issue for me. This is probably why I found myself smoking again two years later. It was nothing to me.

Two Years Later

A couple of years later I was hanging out of my bathroom window puffing on a cigarette that I had won the previous week. So shameful I know.

I had met up with my girlfriend (now ex girlfriend) at a bar. It was September 05, I was twenty-one, the sun was shining and I had recently graduated from University. Life was going well.

We chilled at an outside table chatting away about things I can’t care to remember. She pulled out a deck of card and we played a few hands while we conversed. I wasn’t on a hot streak that day; I was just so good that I didn’t lose. I was getting cocky now so we decided to make it ‘interesting’.

She never had much on her . . . a choc bar, comb, two lighters and a packet of cigarettes. I guess she thought that the laws of probability would turn and favour her . . .

. . . I won it all!

I cleaned her out and popped all of her things into a draw string bag. I had planned on returning them to her at a later date . . . but I ended up hanging out of a window smoking the cigarette in my bathroom. It was 1am and I couldn’t sleep . . . meh . . . I haven’t smoked since, high five anybody?

Part Two Coming Up Next

A to the . . .