Day 11 - I Heart Dave

Hung out with Dave last night and today. First stop, semi-posh party in posh part of town. Cute dress? Check. Good food, good company, and good fun? Check. Took up the drums and then the guitar in a bit of a chick band RockBand wii fest. Forgot about myself, guitar strap hanging from my neck. I felt the crowd below me as my fingers and feet pounded out the sound. I completely understand why musicians crave the stage. The RockBand makers geniously tapped into that human fantasy somehow--rendering themselves bazzillionaires.

The rest of the night, Dave and I talked to nearby party passerbys, but mostly, we made our own little circle of humor and fun near the food, or the cocktails, or the hot tub. It was relaxing to just enjoy his company, feet in the warm hot tub, ocean-salty California night, soft yellow globes in the lawn. By midnight, we were too many drinks deep, and I knew I was one drink away from bumming a cigarette. Dave suggested departure. Thanks to him, I'm still 100% smokeless.

After party smokey smoking thoughts...

I tend to gravitate towards smokers. Why? I mean really, aren't they just more interesting, fun, and free? Perhaps. Or perchance it's my adoration of dysfunction--no joke--from mild to heart-breaking; there's a special place in my heart.

But really, it's probably because I have smoked nearly all of my adult life, and know that these folks and I--we share a secret. Like a rebel gang of misfits, our dirty little habit tells others and each other, "Oh I don't give a shit what they say. I do what I want." Walking into a party of strangers, you meet fellow smokers in the smoker's area (there's always an area), and you have insta-friends.

After you've smoked for so long....when you quit.....it's like a part of your identity is gone. Which is probably one of the most unsung reasons why so many people fail in their quit pursuits. The romanticized version of your former smoker-self beckons. You covet her dreamy artsy aloofness, her i don't give a damn. She taunts you for your squareness. You're stripped of your instant smoker friend pass. Nothing to ease your social nervousness, or to short-cut meet your intense human need for love and acceptane.

Worst of all, when you see the smokers, you feel as if you betrayed them. By quitting the pack, you're really saying, "It was wrong all along." It makes you sick to think you're now administering judgement upon your former fellowship. The guilt alone is enough to make you sit down, light a cigarette, breathe deeply, and say "It's o.k. See? I'm one of you."

Most never-smoked non-smokers look at smokers in disbelief--they just don't get it. I'm not saying "getting it" is a virtue. And I'm definitely not saying smoking is cool or yummy. I'm just saying, it's not a simple thing. Quitting is an intense task--not only physical but mental--it's all tied up with identity and loss, guilt and self-medication. So's alls I'ms sayings is...tread kindly with the addicted, and genuinely congratulate the formers ;-)

O.k.o.k.o.k. enough philosophy of smoke, smokers, and smoking. Last but not least, Dave and I bought our bikes today!!! Hurray! To the mountain (more like bike paths) we go.