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Date Posted: 20:20:27 08/13/22 Sat
Author: Curious
Author Host/IP: 120.159.212.179
Subject: Re: Story Inspiration Sources (The AWS Material, Part Four)
In reply to: Curious 's message, "Story Inspiration Sources (Relaunch)" on 03:11:00 03/06/22 Sun
Part Four, see part one for introduction.
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AWS (Comments from Friends and Family)
I first told my mom I smoked when I was 17. I had been smoking "casually," (i.e., not addicted at all) since about 15. It was a friend's mom who was the first adult to find out I smoked at all, and she kept it a secret, letting me smoke with her whenever we were around each other and occasionally buying me a pack or two when she could. Her son (my friend) didn't find out that she knew I smoked and allowed it for a few months, but just shrugged it off when I told him. He wasn't a smoker but wasn't surprised that his mom was basically cool with me smoking.
By the time I was 17, however, I was smoking more regularly, eventually getting to the point where I really wanted that morning cigarette. My parents both smoked as I was growing up and divorced when I was 16. I lived mostly with my mom and knowing that I was gradually taking more risks about when, where and how often I smoked and that I'd soon be 18, I just decided to go ahead and tell her. She didn't like it, obviously, but she also knew she couldn't rightfully stop me, so that was that.
The following year, we went to go visit her side of the family a few hours away for the holidays during my visit home from college. I was 18 at that point, but it was the first time visiting family as a "known," smoker. I hadn't said anything to any of them, but unbeknownst to me, my mom had. She had told one of my aunts that I had taken up smoking, and my aunt was an ex-smoker herself. Back in her smoking days, she was arguably the heaviest smoker I had ever seen, and although she had quit, she never became an "anti-smoker."
So, my mom and I get in town and go to this smoke-friendly bar/restaurant our family would frequent every year. Not long after arriving and catching up, my aunt takes a seat next to me and mentions that my mom had told her I was a smoker. Still not sure why she took this approach so out of the blue. It may have been because some people were smoking around us and I had yet to light a cigarette. She said, "Honey, we know you smoke and although we don't like it, we don't want you to feel like you have to hide it. You can be yourself around us!" She added that she'd rather I quit, but she understood what a pain it was to be a closet smoker amongst your family, of all people.
I thanked her for understanding and continued eating. A little while later, pretty much everyone in the family noticed a group of family friends a few tables over and walked over to talk with them. I didn't know them, so I just stayed at our table and lit up a cigarette. Shortly after, one of my older cousins -- who was practically an aunt due to the age difference -- arrived and saw me at the table. I hadn't seen her in several years since she lived on the other side of the country, but she was one of the smokers in the family, along with another older cousin and a younger cousin of mine. She immediately walked up to me, gave me a big hug and remarked, "I see you've joined the smokers!"
She asked where everyone else was, and I pointed them out. She shrugged, mentioned she didn't know the people they were talking to either, and decided to take a seat next to me. She dug around in her purse for her cigarettes and realized she left them in the car, so I offered her one of mine. I had about half a pack of Benson and Hedges left, and she said she had never tried one. She lit up, took a couple of drags and jokingly said, "Damn, you smoke these? They're strong. Surprised you can handle them so well."
Few minutes later, the family walks back over while we're still smoking. They all greet my cousin and tease both of us that we can keep each other company as smokers. To this day, whenever we see each other at family gatherings, she asks if I brought Benson and Hedges with me, so I always make sure to have a couple of packs on hand.
In retrospect, it was a very relieving moment. No one in the family chastised me for smoking or made a big deal about it. They knew I was aware of the risks and all that and just accepted me as a smoker. Still glad they were so understanding.
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AWS (Parents Finding Out)
One memory I recall involved my mom's friend finding out I was a smoker after my mom already knew.
She was one of my mom's oldest friends from childhood. A nice lady, but in my opinion...kind of annoying. She was quite the talker and had a laugh that more closely resembled a wail. I liked her just fine, certainly, but could only stand her in small doses. Even as a young kid, my dad and I would joke about tolerating her whenever she visited. Just like my parents, she was a smoker. I can't exactly remember what brand she smoked -- either Parliaments or Marlboro Lights or something.
Anyway, she stayed with us for a few days while visiting from out of town. This was during my senior year of high school and after my parents had been divorced for a couple of years, so it was just her, my mom and myself in the house. I had come clean to my mom about being a smoker only a few months earlier, but I guess the news hadn't really reached her friend yet.
So, one morning I wake up and head downstairs. She had just arrived the night before, so outside of a brief "Hello, nice to see you," I hadn't really interacted with her much just yet. My mom was at a doctor's appointment, so it was just her friend and I in the house for a little bit.
It was probably 9 or 10 am when I walked into the kitchen. She was sitting at the far end of the room on our computer. When she noticed me walk into the kitchen, she shot up, greeted me with a smile and a cheery "Good morning!" and asked if she could fix me breakfast. I accepted her offer, grabbed a stool at the kitchen counter and turned on the TV while she got to work making some food.
As she went on and on (and on and on and on and on...) about her drive, I reached into the pocket of my pajama pants, grabbed my pack of cigarettes and a lighter and brought the ashtray in the middle of the kitchen counter closer to me.
She was too preoccupied with making breakfast and going nonstop about her drive (seriously, there's a reason I could only take her in small doses) to notice what I was doing. It wasn't until she heard the two or three clicks from my lighter that she turned around and saw me light up a cigarette.
"What is this?!" was the first thing she said. She didn't speak with disapproval or anything like that, but was clearly shocked. I had just assumed my mom had already told her at some point that I smoked, so I was genuinely surprised at her surprise, so to speak.
She asked, "Since when did you smoke?"
I just shrugged and said something like "For a while now, I guess. I assumed you already knew."
She said my mom never said anything to her about it, but wanted me to clarify if my mom knew, which I confirmed, of course.
"Well, as long as you're not doing it behind her back!" was all she had to say about it after that. From then on, it was as though I had always been a smoker as far as she was concerned.
----------------------------
AWS (First Time You Smoked in Public)
Another instance for me was when I went with my mom to visit a friend and his mom in Florida. Our mothers had known each other for many years before we were born and we were born within a couple of months of each other. Around the time I was 12 or 13 years old, they moved to Florida. We'd occasionally go visit them every now and then when we could.
This trip, however, was the first trip I ever went on after telling my mom that I smoked. It was around a year after the story I posted above (I was 17). So although she knew I smoked and she was a smoker herself, she wasn't comfortable with the idea of me smoking and didn't want me smoking around her. What's more, neither my friend nor his mom smoked, so I was basically a lone smoker on this trip.
We were visiting for eight days and I had brought along two packs of cigarettes with me for the trip which, at the time, I hoped would be enough to hold me over. I knew I couldn't ask my mom to buy me cigarettes and I didn't expect to be in a position to steal any of hers. Since my buddy and I pretty much got to do our own thing during the trip while our moms went off by themselves, I ended up smoking far more during this trip than I anticipated. My friend and his mom had their own hotel room and my mom and I had adjoining rooms. In other words, I essentially had a room to myself and it was a smoke-friendly room. As such, after my friend went to bed each night, I'd stay up a while to watch TV and smoke as much as I wanted.
Of course, this meant I went through my cigarettes much quicker than I anticipated. During the last three days of our trip, I was down to only two cigarettes and was brainstorming ideas about how in the hell I would manage to get more. Then it hit me. I figured I'd use the same strategy I had used back home when I tried to go buy cigarettes at a tobacco store near my house. What would make it easier, I hoped, is that no one in this city knew me, so I had even less reason to be paranoid about smoking in public.
So, one evening when I had some time to myself, I walked down the street to a tobacco store on the corner. It was flanked on both sides by a hole-in-the-wall bar and a deli. On the sidewalk in front of all three establishments were patio tables and chairs. My plan was to take a seat at one of the tables just outside of the tobacco store and smoke my last two cigarettes, hoping it would make the store owner believe I was at least 18 years old without asking for my ID. After all, surely no underage kid would so brazenly smoke in public where everyone could see him, right?
The plan worked. I lit up my first cigarette and just relaxed, occasionally checking to see if the owner saw me. I figured he must have considering there was no one in the store at that time. Thankfully for me, I got a phone call from my then-girlfriend after I lit up my second and last cigarette, so I was able to look even more comfortable by casually smoking while chatting on the phone. While I was on the phone, the owner stepped outside to smoke a cigarette of his own. We made eye contact since I was sitting right in front of the door and I gave him a friendly wave. I finished my cigarette, got off the phone, stood up and walked in the store. The owner put out his cigarette and followed me inside. I asked for a pack of Marlboro Lights as confidently as I could and without hesitation, he grabbed the pack and rung me up. Couldn't have gone any better. Since it went so well, I took the opportunity to pick out a cigar before leaving the store to enjoy later that night before bed.
Funny part is, when my mom walked in my room the next day to wake me up, she saw the nearly-full pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and what was left of the cigar in the ashtray. She asked me, "How the hell did you manage that?" I simply said that it can be amazing what a little bit of confidence can do.
------------------------------------------
AWS (At What Age did you become a daily smoker)
It's actually hard for me to pinpoint the exact moment I became a daily smoker. It was either once I had been "outed" as a smoker (thus was free to smoke openly at home) or when I was actually hooked.
I had my first cigarette at 12 or 13 years old. Didn't like it and waited a good while before I tried it again. I'd just steal a cigarette or two from my parent's opened packs over the course of the following months and then "practice," when I was home alone. Although I rather quickly learned how to smoke without "despising" the taste, it wasn't until another year or so when I met a girl my age who was similarly beginning to experiment with smoking that I really tried to embrace it.
So, by the time I was 15 I knew how to smoking "confidently." I could inhale and actually began enjoying the taste. But I still had to be sneaky about it for fear of being caught by my parents. I've told this story plenty of times before around here, but after my friend's mom busted me one day (first adult to find out I smoked) and agreed to keep it a secret, that is probably what propelled me to start becoming a regular smoker. She'd often buy me cigarettes whenever she could and I was free to smoke around her. Still, even then, I wasn't quite a regular smoker, as I'd sometimes go days without a cigarette with no issues.
I've also told the story about my first "craving," I had one day in high school and how I was so desperate for a cigarette, I faked being sick to get out of school for the day and had my friend's mom pick me up so I could get my fix. Again, it was the first time I ever had an actual, physical craving and started to realize I was getting addicted.
However, I still don't think I was a regular smoker at that point. When that craving hit, I hadn't had a cigarette in a few days and after that day, I recall going another couple days without smoking. I knew the craving would return, but I figured at the time that it would only occur if I hadn't smoked within the span of a few days. I was also playing a lot of sports during this time, so I was making a conscious effort not to smoke too much.
If I had to make my best guess, I probably became a daily smoker at 17. Even after I had become accustomed to smoking and had cravings every few days, the one thing about smoking I never had any craving for or desire to do was having a cigarette early in the morning, shortly after waking up. Seemed so bizarre to me. When I was staying at my buddy's house one weekend, I woke up rather early one saturday morning before anyone else did. So I went downstairs to his living room to watch TV until he woke up. Shortly after, his mom walked downstairs and asked if I wanted to go outside and have a cigarette with her. I told her I didn't want a cigarette so early in the morning, but I'd go sit outside with her. She lit up, offered me a cigarette again, and I politely declined. About halfway through her cigarette, however, I took the dive and asked if I could have one. I only smoked it about halfway before putting it out. The thought of smoking that early in the morning just didn't appeal to me.
Fast forward about a year later when I was 17. I got up one morning, got ready for school, ate a quick breakfast, said goodbye to my mom, hopped in my car and drove off. Not long after pulling out of my neighborhood, I suddenly had a very strong craving for a cigarette. What once seemed unimaginable to me -- having a cigarette in the early morning hours -- suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world. I had about half a pack of Benson and Hedges in my car, so I lit up as soon as I came to a stoplight and took a couple of detours on my way to school to ensure I had plenty of time to finish the cigarette.
It was a great feeling, and from there on out I'd almost always have a morning cigarette on my way to school. As seniors, we were allowed to go off campus for lunch, so eventually I started having a cigarette or two on my lunch break, and then a cigarette as soon as I got off campus when school was over for the day. I loved it. I loved having something like that to look forward to. Since I noticed I was quickly becoming a regular, daily smoker, I knew I'd have to come clean to at least one of my parents (they had been divorced about a year prior). At that point, it made little sense to have to sneak around and smoke when they both smoked themselves and I was starting to smoke more often. At that rate, I thought, it would only be a matter of time before I was caught by one of them if I didn't take the initiative and tell at least one of them myself.
So, I decided to tell my mom since I spent most of my time with her after the divorce in my childhood home. One day after getting home from school, she started making dinner. When we sat down to eat, I told her I had something I needed to be honest about, and that I'd rather be honest with her instead of continuing to lie or generally being untruthful. I confessed that I had started smoking and sugarcoated the truth by saying that I first tried it only a little over a year prior and had recently started smoking more frequently. I told her I started smoking a cigarette on my way to school every morning, on my lunch break, and on my way home, and that I always took the extra time to drive around with the windows down to air out my car before actually getting home. I told her I didn't want to hide it anymore.
She certainly wasn't happy, but she acknowledged she couldn't rightfully stop me from smoking. I had grown up around it, after all. But she did stipulate she didn't want me smoking around her, as the thought made her uncomfortable, but she wouldn't stop me from smoking in my room or smoking around the house when she wasn't home.
After finishing dinner that night, I took an ashtray from the living room to my room upstairs and for the first time smoked a cigarette in my own house, in my own room, without having to be sneaky about it. I kept the door open and windows closed since I no longer had to be concerned with masking the smell. I could leave my pack of cigarettes and my lighter out in plain view without concern for my mom finding it and busting me. We had a bit of a "mini living room" upstairs between my bedroom and the guest room, and that became my smoking den for the rest of the year up until I left for college.
The next time my sister came to visit (she had already learned that I smoked a little less than a year before I told my mom), she was surprised to see a full ashtray on the coffee table when she went upstairs to unpack in the guest room. She said, "So I guess you told mom, huh?"
Once I was able to freely smoke in my own house, that is when I definitely became a daily smoker if I wasn't already. I'd have a cigarette almost as soon as I woke up before even getting in the car to drive to school, and I'd have a cigarette on my way to school as well. I could now openly identify as a smoker and even though I wasn't quite 18 yet, I was much more comfortable with smoking in public where other people would see me since I had nothing to hide from (one of) my parents.
By the time I was in college, I was probably up to a pack a day.
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