Smoker's Anonymous

You remember the other week I told you about Uko's party for Lisa, and how I was taking drags from a cigarette of this girl I liked? Well the weird thing about that night was that it should have been the most unlikely night of the whole year that I'd smoke, as it was the anniversary of my granddad dying of throat cancer from a lifetime of smoking. After seeing what smoking had reduced him to: skin and bones, unable to eat solids, unable to go to to toilet, unable to speak, walk or even stay awake for any length of time. And worse, leaving my Nan alone.

Then there's my "uncle", one of those not-really-your-uncle-uncles that always seem to be closer to you than your biological family anyway. He got cancer from passive smoking, and even though he's survived it, it cost him a good few of his internal organs, meaning he'll be carrying a bag full of wee around with him for the rest of his life.

It wasn't like I was trying to impress this girl (a nurse, who should know better and probably sees the stuff I've mentioned all the time) or anything, but all it took was a few drinks and a girl and a I was giving in to something I should hate bitterly on the night I should hate it the most.

The time a cigarette had last touched my lips was also in a club, taking a drag from one that a girl I had a soft spot for was smoking, fooling myself it might make us closer no doubt.

Before that it was when I was on my back from Leeds after seeing Sara for the last time. I secretly bought a packet of 10 B&H while waiting for her (as I was ashamed to let her see my get them, because she had started smoking again - perhaps in part to spite me, despite knowing that I'd just found out my granddad was dying). I don't think I actually managed to smoke a whole one (I can't smoke properly!) and it didn't really have the desired effect (whatever that was). I still have the pack at home, along with the lighter I bought that day too.

I'm telling you this because last night, I'm lying on my "bed" listening to some heavy rock from Funeral for a Friend, and I suddenly had the desire to be smoking. I think it's more the image of smoking that attracts me, as I've never had a physical addiction (not inhaled enough nicotine for that!) to it. Then I thought about how anti-smoking I really am...

I remember when I was little my cousin, sister and I were the founding (only) members of "fag buster". No, it wasn't and anti-gay movement, it was a doomed attempt at getting my nan and granddad to quit smoking. My sister even made badges, I've still got mine somewhere at home now. We were a somewhat extremist organisation, as my sister and cousin went so far as to hide my nan and grandad's cigarettes, so after we went home my mom would get a call from my nan asking where her fags were!

Ever since Ive always annoyed my smoker-friends by trying to get them to give up.

But my point is this: If I can't stop myself taking drags, imagine what it must be like to have a real addiction?

xx

How to start conversations with Girls

So my train-ride home for Easter wasn't too interesting, until just as we pulled into the station and all stood up in the isle waiting to be allowed off and I found myself stood behind a beautiful woman. Blonde hair tied up with a blue band, gorgeous blue eyes behind stylish specs, pale skin, long legs and thin waist. I was dying to talk to her, find out who she was, if I'd have a chance in a million with her. The problem was: what on Earth could I, this meek stranger stood behind her who writes anonymous blogs that no-one reads, say to her, this power-dressed gorgeous woman, to get some sort of rapport going? At the time I drew a blank - I could think of nothing that wouldn't sound sleezy or lame comming from a stranger who just happens to be standing behind her.

Maybe I could have asked her "so how do random guys normally start conversations with you on trains then?", although no-doubt she'd simply reply "not like this" and turn her back to me, not even awarding marks for effort or orignality.

I decided to Google my quandry and found a few useful tips. The ironic (in this case) "I'm Feeling Lucky" result simply advised that practice makes perfect, and that I should be talking to women "anywhere snd everywhere " about "anything that comes to mind". All well and good, but leaving it to whatever is in my mind at the time perhaps isn't too useful when whats on your mind is how to start talking to this woman, so would simply result in the question I suggested above. Or, worse still, simply "God, you're beautiful!" which may lead her to believe I'm an over-enthusiastic christian who's happy that it's Easter soon.

Result #3 (#2 was from the same site as "I'm Feeling Lucky") is rather a long article titled Whe Women Reject Men... And What To Do About It. The bulk of this article was explaining that men fear rejection, so they just don't go up and talk to women in the first place. This is perhaps a little advanced for me, seeing as I can't even think of what to say, let alone being afraid to say it. It then goes on to give a brief list of things to NOT do - as randomly talking to someone in the queue to get off a train isn't on the list I read on. The article then lists several helpful steps to get over this fear of rejection (may be useful when I get to that stage, so I read on). 1) Go to a bar on your own and watch other guys go up and talk to women (I don't think there was a bar on the train...) 2) Start small - by talking to girls who are PAID to talk to you. Suggests walking into every store in a mall (shopping centre to you and I) and starting up conversations. Presumably whilst avoiding the security guards that noticed you walking indescriminately into every single shop without buying anything and thought you'd lost your mommy. 3) Plan ahead (what do you think I'm trying to do here?) Finally, join the online dating agency advertised at the bottom on the article.

Result #4 - Use your iPod. Apparently showing off your playlists is a good way to get girls to randomly show up at your door step. The problem with this approach is that I am genuinely affraid of the iPod invasion of public transport - there's just something sinister about seeing those white headphones no-matter where you go or in which carage you sit. It's like the big white ball from the Prisoner all over again, but this time instead of a giant white balloon following the spirited #6, its a hoard of souless white hard-drives, persecuting my black and chrome HDD for its individuality and slight inferiority.

So I'm non-the-wiser then, I guess I'll just have to Practice, Practice, Practice.