I'm trying to stop smoking. Again. It's not going well. I have wobbly legs and I don't know what to do with myself when I'm on long car journeys. I'm at that awkward stage where I'm not feeling any of the benefits of not smoking and at the same time feeling all the old cravings. It's bollocks.
I joked on Twitter the other night that fags provided the greatest love affair of my life. That got me some new followers. Hello, boys. It's not true. Sorry to disappoint you. You're all so sweet.
Anyway, while it's not true to say that cigarettes were my greatest love, they were my first adult love. I was a child until my first cigarette. After that, everything changed. You always remember the first time. For me, it was on a beach in St Andrews in late April or early May. There had been drinking. There was some fumbling and sand everywhere and to be honest that first kiss was a bit of a mess but we soon developed confidence in one another. Like all men, I want to think I'm in control of the relationship, but in the furring arteries of my heart I know that this is not the case. I lost myself to cigarettes a quarter of a century or so ago and they have had me ever since.
We've had our ups and downs. I have from time to time been able to resist sometimes for months at a time usually when I've started another relationship. In the end, I've gone behind my new love's back and fallen into the smoky embrace of the old. In truth, cigarettes are the lover from your past you most want to deny. She's an embarrassing mess. She makes you feel wonderful in the first few moments and then dirty for weeks or months afterwards. You crave her and despise yourself at the same time.
So now, fed up with the self-loathing, I've decided to try to leave the cigarettes behind again. I'm not sure I'll be able to cope with life without my stubby, smelly, disgusting little crutches but I'm going to try. Farewell, fags. Remember the good times, please and try to think well of me.
I joked on Twitter the other night that fags provided the greatest love affair of my life. That got me some new followers. Hello, boys. It's not true. Sorry to disappoint you. You're all so sweet.
Anyway, while it's not true to say that cigarettes were my greatest love, they were my first adult love. I was a child until my first cigarette. After that, everything changed. You always remember the first time. For me, it was on a beach in St Andrews in late April or early May. There had been drinking. There was some fumbling and sand everywhere and to be honest that first kiss was a bit of a mess but we soon developed confidence in one another. Like all men, I want to think I'm in control of the relationship, but in the furring arteries of my heart I know that this is not the case. I lost myself to cigarettes a quarter of a century or so ago and they have had me ever since.
We've had our ups and downs. I have from time to time been able to resist sometimes for months at a time usually when I've started another relationship. In the end, I've gone behind my new love's back and fallen into the smoky embrace of the old. In truth, cigarettes are the lover from your past you most want to deny. She's an embarrassing mess. She makes you feel wonderful in the first few moments and then dirty for weeks or months afterwards. You crave her and despise yourself at the same time.
So now, fed up with the self-loathing, I've decided to try to leave the cigarettes behind again. I'm not sure I'll be able to cope with life without my stubby, smelly, disgusting little crutches but I'm going to try. Farewell, fags. Remember the good times, please and try to think well of me.
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