The Smoke-Break Syndrome

I know smokers are on everybody's hate-list already, but to be honest, I don't really give a shit if I breathe in second hand smoke, farts, pollution, body odours or stupidity. Everyone has some unbreakable habit that annoys the hell out of others, unfortunately in most cases there are no angry mobs raging around every corner ready to put a stake through your heart if you let a bad joke rip, but I'm sure with the same amount of marketing, like anti-smoking campaigns, that can be arranged too.

No, let's get to the point. I don't smoke, it just happened that way because I'm not cool, I'm a neat freak and there's no room in my life for a second addiction after chocolate, but there will always be friends, parents and boyfriends that smoke. That's all fine and dandy, as long as they put out a candy dish to keep me satisfied, no, my beef with smokers is a very different one. It's the smoke-break syndrome.

If you are a crumble socially damaged like me, that'll probably be about 50% of you (I see you silent freaks on the bus every day trying to pretend I'm not staring at you, don't lie to me!), you will nod in agreement in just a few seconds. If not, get lost...till my next post that is.

So your boyfriend has taken you to meet some of his family, be it uncles, cousins or those other accidents we call family members, and you've never met any of them before. You put on your nicest dress, with the lowest level of tartiness, you smile and pretend you won't ever divorce his sorry ass when you're both 40 and ugly, and your boyfriend takes care of most of the talking, whilst you nod and contribute with a "yes", a "no" and a blatant lie about the delicious cake. All is well. Right?

Wrong. Suddenly, your smoking boyfriend gets up, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and moves towards the terrace door. Naturally he can't endanger the lives of others with that rusty, bloody knife he puts to his lips, nooo, and ruing aunt Maggie’s lovely acid yellow drapes, certainly not! He goes outside to smoke, and then it happens.

The empty faces of all his family members stare at you in anticipation. Silence smothers everything. Their eyes follow your every move, and that's when you start staring back. You don't know what to say, because you don't know them, you don't care to either, and you're too intelligent for stooping to the intense low of talking about the weather, clearly you can see from where you are sitting that your boyfriend has icicles hanging from his nose hairs out there. You all take turns looking at your boyfriend, trying to force him back in with telepathic threats of another world, you pretend to have an itch on your ankle just to have something to do, and somewhere a cat is dying outside, instantly you wish it was you. A chair creaks, an uncle coughs, someone has the decency to ask if you want another piece of cake, and even though you almost caught your death trying to get it down the right hole the first time in its awfulness, you grab it with both hands and say thank you five times and contemplate kissing the hands of the person offering it to you, till your boyfriend finishes his cigarette and comes back to end the silence continuum of social disturbance.

Oh, don't bloody act like it hasn't happened to you.