The Trouble With Me

Those of you who are following along at home will remember when I introduced you to Cathy.  Cathy is, of course, just one of the ever growing sorority of female smokers who are far too hot, far too sexy and far too young for me and who — in complete defiance of common sense — I insist on flirting with.

OK, OK, you can whistle.  Good boy!  What else have you got?

OK, OK, you can whistle. Good boy! What else have you got?

Slave as I am to my own fantasies, I’ve spent weeks filling my age-addled brain with visions of getting Cathy and me off by ourselves for a cigarette break.  And not just fantasizing.  I’ve been obsessed with the longing to make the escapade actually happen.  For a while there, a couple of weeks ago, I had myself convinced that Cathy would be joining me for a smoke but (if you actually are paying attention) our smoke date was (somehow or another) transformed into a ‘rain check’.  Another C.A. fantasy gone “up in smoke”!  (Ha Ha.  Get it??  A smoking fantasy ‘up in smoke’.  Man!  Sometimes I crack myself up!!!)

Well, apparently the smoke has cleared because this very morning I was out in my favorite park, sitting on my favorite bench, and who do you suppose was sitting right next to me?  This very Cathy!  Was it good??  It was more than good!  I asked her to let me light her cigarette and she decided that was a fine idea.  Fine idea indeed!  Trouble is, it didn’t turn out like I fantasized it.

Here’s the thing, friends: your blog host is — how shall I put it? — a problem smoker.  I have a problem getting cigarettes lit — and that’s a problem!!  I carry around four or five Bic lighters and I’m buying new ones all the time.  I spent $45 on a Zippo lighter and I’m constantly pouring Butane into it.  I’ve got two or three matchboxes in my pocket…

So, you see, it’s not as if I neglect to consider the whole ignition process.  It’s just that … well, I don’t know what it ‘just is’.  I just know I have tons of trouble lighting a cigarette.

And — who’s surprised? — I had trouble lighting Cathy’s cigarette.

“Don’t get anxious,” she advised me.

“I’m not anxious.”

“You sound anxious.”

“I’m not anxious, damn it.  And damn this friggin’ top-of-the-line lighter!”

Close-up of a lit 1968 slim model Zippo lighter.

This is what a Zippo lighter looks like when it’s actually lighting.  So far, this is the part of my fantasy I haven’t been able to work out.

“Bics work best,” she told me, “try your Bic.”

I tried my Bic.  No luck.

“Here.  Take mine.”

I took hers and — on the fourth or fifth try — got it lit.

“You know what your trouble is?” she asked me, “you don’t smoke enough.”

Holy Jumping Through A Hoop!!  I can’t get the part of my fantasy that I’d been fantasizing to work out; but, instead, along comes something more fantastic than my fantasies.  Here’s the young, gorgeous, sexy Cathy — face just inches from mine — telling me I’ve got to smoke more.  Head rush???  What comes after head rush?

Sometimes it’s thrilling to be a smoking appreciator!  It was thrilling this morning to get such bad advice from Cathy and it was thrilling, seconds later, when she flicked her tiny little Bic and got my cigarette lit.  No problem.  No problems at all for this ‘problem smoker’!   🙂

That very moment — the moment when the flame in her hand touched the tip of my Marlboro — has had me floating on a cloud of smoke all day.

Oh Cathy, Cathy, Cathy!!  This idiotically foolish old man is falling in love with you!

It’s going to be bad, friends, it’s going to be really bad in the long run; but right now it’s sooooooooooooooo good.

Stay tuned for further developments.

Be Happy,
Be Well,

Charon’s Aide

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