I’m not a smoker. I’m not a social smoker, I’m not a drunk smoker, I’m not a stressed smoker, I am regularly offered cigarettes and I regularly decline.
I’m not any kind of smoker, and people are impressed by this, but they shouldn’t be. I should have been a smoker. All the things that smokers do, I like. Smokers get to leave any awkward or boring conversation to ‘have a quick cigarette’. (I used to tell people I was ‘popping to the loo’, but realised it seemed as though I was incontinent, so now just gesture vaguely into the ether. It’s both bewildering and rude). Smokers get to stand outside nightclubs and mock people who are still queuing to get in.
Smokers get something like 80% more ‘break-time’ than their non-smoking colleagues during an average working day, simply because no-one keeps track of those few minutes each cigarette break takes. (Presumably incontinents are also shirking). Smokers have ready made pick up lines. Smokers get to look generous rather than bewildered when people ask them for a cigarette. (I understand the question, it’s just I’ve never smoked, so I don’t understand why they don’t know that. Surely my pearly white teeth and exuberantly healthy lungs give me away?)
Smokers get to say brilliant things like, ‘I’m dying for a fag’ or ‘I’d murder someone for a cigarette’. (Smokers are often slightly frightening. This is also unfair). Smokers get to engineer perfect flirting situations by inviting lust objects to have a cigarette outside. Smokers always have lighters, so are invaluable at children’s birthday parties. And soft-rock concerts.