The Addictive Miss "C"

It was a relationship, maybe a love affair, certainly a bond between me and Miss "C". Yea, it was one of those love/hate things.

I was a good smoker... one of the best. The last thing I did before I lay my head on the pillow at night was crush Miss "C" in the bedside ash tray. In the morning before even getting up to pee I would grab a new Miss "C" and light her fire as I lay in bed. We smoked all day. In meetings. In the company cafeteria. In hallways. In my office. In bars. In restaurants. Everywhere! If Miss "C" wasn't allowed somewhere I didn't go there. And if someone had the audacity to insult me and my lover by asking me to snuff out her fire I would lay into them about my RIGHTS, about them getting a life, all kinds of crap. Oh yea, Miss "C" and I were into each other... into it hot and heavy.

One thing I think very interesting is almost the whole time I was never ADDICTED to her. Not me. I could drop her in a New York minute with no problem, no regrets... I just didn't want to. I hung with Miss "C" because I wanted to, my decision, my right. Yea, sure.

I noticed on my right hand, the skin between my middle and index fingers was brown. It was nicotine stains. Not only that there were little bumps on the skin. They itched. I thought I should change which hand I used to hold Miss "C". Kinda like switching to menthol's when I had a cold... better for you. In the back of my mind I was wondering.... if this is what my fingers look like, what might my lungs look like? Do you think there were bumps on them too? Can your lungs itch? In addition I noticed that laughing always finished with coughing. I wasn't alone, many others who were having love affairs with their own Miss "C", always finished laughing with a cough or a lot of coughs. I also noticed that a lot of people who didn't smoke also didn't like to be around those who did smoke. I found I was limiting my friends to only smokers as the trend to not smoke grew. Other smokers didn't give you shit about smoking. I saw smokers standing outside of places that didn't allow smoking. Unlike me, they were hooked. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know something is driving you to stand out in the cold, freezing your butt off, just to inhale that addictive poison. I started to wonder, on and off, who was in charge of me? Me or Miss "C"?

My life seemed to revolve around Miss "C". Before I went out I had to check to make sure there were enough smokes. Did I have fluid in my lighter. Extra flints. Matches in case the damn lighter quit. Very few times in my life I actually ran out of cigarettes. When it happened I searched the house. I looked in drawers, dressers, jacket pockets, car, glove box. Check the ash trays; any butts long enough to light up? Damn, had to go to the store. Snowing, no problem. Blizzard, no problem. Half drunk, no problem. If Miss "C" wasn't there I was going to go get her and nothing was going to stand in my way. Miss "C" was clearly in charge. In charge of every minute of every day.

She had to go.

I had tried to drop her a number of times and I would always crawl back. I was going to rid myself of her or die, literally, trying. I made the decision... again.

It was one of the best decisions I ever made in my life. After all the failed attempts I finally made it. It was January 1, 1986. I remember that last cigarette, my last kiss of the addictive Miss "C", like it was yesterday. It was about 2:30 AM, the wife and I had just returned from a party. I got out of the car with my long time companion Miss "C" in hand. Standing in the driveway I took a last drag on her filthy orifice and flicked her into the gutter.

At the end of this near 30 year relationship was a new feeling... fear. I was afraid I couldn't live without her. I might fail... again. What would my friends say about not being able to give her up. We were always together for those many, many years. At times I would call her names like fag, cancer stick, smoke, butt, coffin nail but we always got back together. She was very forgiving. I remember one time I gave up on her for about 6 weeks (of hell). At a weak moment, in a bar I think, she touched my lips and the affair was on again only hotter and heavier than before.

In a little over a month from now our anniversary will be upon us. Back in 1986 I thought of Miss "C" often. I missed her so much... I was in mourning. I was afraid she might not stay dead. Now, I think of her from time to time and wish she could be a fond memory like most other loves. It isn't to be. It took me a long time to realize Miss "C" was really killing me. She was poisoning me. She stole my will power. She made me do things I didn't want to do. She controlled my life.

No more.