When it comes to a relationship, one of my deal breakers has always been smoking. (Among other things) I’ve grown up around smokers, so I just hate it. Then I met Stephen, who was a smoker. Naturally. I quickly fell in love with him, so I put up with his habit. We found ways to try and work around his smoking; he had to kiss me before every cigarette he had (that I was around for), and had to brush his teeth afterward if he felt an overwhelming desire to kiss me right then. I used to bug him constantly about smoking, but then I started to let it slide. I never stopped hating it, I just felt bad about constantly nagging him about it.
He had tried once or twice to quit, but because he wasn’t doing it for himself, it never lasted for longer than two or three days. He even tried these electronic cigarettes, but they did nothing for him. A couple of weeks ago, Stephen and I were standing at a bus stop talking about him quitting. I bet him that if he quit smoking, I would stop drinking coffee. I only made this bet because I never believed that he would actually quit.
Guess what? Stephen has been smoke free for two weeks. Awesome! I still haven’t given up coffee. I just couldn’t do it. I never actually wanted to do it, so it was foolish for me to make that bet in the first place! Instead of giving up coffee, I gave up the creamer that I put in my coffee.
Long story short? Stephen is awesome, and I am not.
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