Dating and Cigarettes


 

Dating and Cigarettes for me is a non-negotiable. If you’re a smoker don’t even look my way. Bad breath. Yellow teeth. Stinky hair and clothing. Ugh!

I hate cigarette smoke as it aggravates my allergies. Many years ago when I used to go out to clubs and bars (Ladies Night Out) I’d always have to wash my hair and shower when I got home because my hair and clothing reeked of cigarette smoke! Yuck!! Ugh!!

New York City has banned smoking in most bars, restaurants, clubs, cultural institutions, etc…. but you still must negotiate city streets populated by dedicated smokers who must light up despite knowing that smoking will eventually kill them.

Unfortunately a day at the park can be easily ruined once a smoker sits in your vicinity and decides to light up. Then you have to get up and move because your air space is being violated!

On one note I do think it is an addiction because my Dad started smoking when he was 17, quit at age 50 but still died at age 65 (stroke & cancer).  That was back in 1995 when he passed away. Now the price of a pack of ciggies is sky high. I believe almost $20 per pack but loyal smokers don’t allow the high cost to deter them. In my low-income neighborhood you can get “loosies.”  Or buy them in bulk from Indian reservations.

As for me I stay as far away as possible from smokers as is humanly possible. I don’t date guys who smoke either because they are like walking foul ash trays.  Plus I don’t want to be any man’s nurse. I’m not about to be pushing your around in a wheelchair or watch you gasping for air from an oxygen tank all because you refuse to take care of yourself. If you’re overweight, out of shape, smoke or drink Go Look for a Nurse/Undertaker because you will surely need one in the few years you’ve got left on the planet.

Death Angel

Requiem for Bertie


Requiem for Bertie

Angel of Death
Angel of Death

A walking cadaver feasting yet never full.  Hollow sunken cheeks. Fetid breath.  Mortuary bones clacking like castanets signal a dirge for a being hanging onto life yet bound for the grave. More specter than man. A rambling absurdity. Vultures patiently await thy final fall. Ye reek of the morgue. Thy entire body festers as a gangrenous wound.  He beckons! He beckons! Rub him down with frankincense and myrrh!   Ready thy flesh for winding sheet and cooling board. Turn back all covered mirrors!  Face thy head to the North Star. Every road ye tread leads to the crypt. Thy Tomb awaits thee and bids thee step in.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

The smell of death accompanies thy uprising and approach.  A stench emanating from thy despoiled core lingers in every room.  Onlookers vainly swing their heads in disgust trying to dislodge tastes of putrid flesh invading their tongues. Youth and health have been dispersed to the gale like leaves whipped by the windstorm then fallen to soil. Leaves decomposing returning to the earth from whence they came.  No potions, brews or concoctions from Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe can save thee now. Threescore and ten shall not be thine for the Fates are poised to cut life’s cord.

The Pale Horseman rides for thee. This night thy soul is required.  Ferry passage has been booked and Charon awaits you dockside for thy journey across the River Styx.  Once shiny obsidian bursting with life now ye become dusty white-grey urn ashes.  A tree that once stood tall in the forest has fallen never to rise again.  Strong saplings are pine boxes for many Potters Fields.

Once to the bazaar now to the funeral.  Maggot courtiers await the beck and call of thy rotted corpse. Hypnos wicked opium dram shall deliver thy harvest ready soul gathered unto Thanatos sickle and scythe.  Journeys fueled by alcohol, cigarettes and sugar end much too soon. Yonder cemetery will be thy new home.