Our first date was going really well… until…
Idiot: How do you feel about smoking?
Me: Not a fan.
Idiot: Oh, really?
[This should not be a surprise. My dating profile clearly states that I prefer non-smokers. Look at me – out on a date with someone who listed themselves as an “occasional smoker”- trying to be open minded, since he really seemed like a great guy.]
Me: Yeah. Cigarette smoke bothers me, and I do have mild asthma. Not going to lecture you or anything, but I would prefer you not smoke around me.
Idiot: I only smoke when I am drinking.
[We were drinking at that moment.]
Me: Heh, I think there is some science behind combining alcohol and cigarettes being a really bad idea, so if you were going to pick a time to do it, that would probably not be the best. [Shrug] I am sure you can’t smoke in here anyway.
[About an hour later, as we are driving in his car…]
Idiot: Ugh. I really need a cigarette. Would you mind?
Me: Um… I actually would mind. I really wish you would not do that with me in the car.
Idiot: I will hold it out the window. You should be okay.
[“I will hold it out the window. You should be okay.” might be the exact words my father uttered, about 45 years ago, shortly before I puked all over the back seat of his car.]
Me: I really wish you wouldn’t.
[He lit a cigarette in the car, and attempted to hold it out the window when it was not in his face.]
I don’t mean to be a baby, but I spent most of the next 5 minutes holding my breath… and getting increasingly angry.
I said nothing… mostly because my level of anger had reached the point where, if I did say something, I probably would not have been able to stop. I tried to convince myself that I WAS overreacting, without much success. Afterward, as a lovely reminder, he smelled and tasted like an ashtray for the rest of the evening.
*I will share in being an Idiot on this one. I should have known better.