Unique Way To Stop Smoking

One night two years ago, me and my then-girlfriend Lisa, were sitting on my couch watching her favorite show,"Dancing With The Stars." On D.T.W.S., a particularly handsome couple were dirty dancing a slow Samba. I hate that show; but I have to admit, it was arousing. This dance wasn't lost on her either. She wormed her way under the blanket we both were sharing. She came up to kiss me, and screamed

"Oh my God! You reek!You were smoking? You've got to be kidding me? I thought you quit for me?!?"

Needless to say, that ruined the moment. Not just that, her outburst-and uncovering my lie-stressed me out so much all I wanted to do was burn a heater! So after a long heart-to-heart, she gave me an ultimatum: ^{Quit smoking}, or quit me. Which meant quit eating her succulent dinners, and watching her succulent 40 inch plasma, etc...

There was only one small problem. I had a habit. A big one. Ok, more like a small addiction. Perhaps a mid-size addiction; with big addiction tendencies. I had tried everything. Not just for her. For other people too. The patch, acupuncture, yoga, (I lived in L.A.) jogging, e-cigarrettes(a complete ripoff IMO.)

She knew of all my failed efforts to quit. So she thought of one final, last ditch method, that she claimed would work. I had just two things to do. If I honestly committed to her method, within a week I would be so embarrassed, I would never suck on a cancer stick again.

Here's how it worked. She said think of the worst cologne I have ever smelled. Whether I used it, or my uncle Bill, or whatever. So Jovan Musk from the 1970's was my choice. Then she picked one...Lilac Vegatal(actually a cheap after "spash") The she asked me if I had a really corny picture of myself. Preferably in some bad clothes that were in fashion a few years back. And I had to be smoking in the photo. Well, I had just seen a picture of myself at my Mom's house from college-circa 1989.Smoking outside of my dorm. Get this. I was actually wearing a "Cosby sweater!." The one's with the huge colorful cobbelstone-like tiles mosiacly piece together. The only person that pulled it off was Bill Cosby, and I don't really know why?

So here was the deal. I was to keep one bottle of cologne at home, and one in my car or with me at all times. With the picture, she made into a button that bore the caption, "I am a powerless slave to cigarettes. But at least I look cool."

Now the ultimate goal was to not smoke at all. In a perfect world I would simply stop forever. We both knew I'd relapse. Here's where the honesty clause came in. When I did slip up and smoke, no matter where I was, I was to douse myself with enough of the toxic collogne to stink up a small country, and wear the button in a prominent place for the remainder of the day.

Well, I have done some really zany, dangerous stuff in my life; and this seemed kind of bush league in comparison. I was actually not afraid of slipping up at all.

I went two days without even thinking about smoking, let alone Jonesing for one. Then at work I got into it bad with the cocktail waitress, then later, her boyfriend who came in when she told him about our spat. So when the drunks at my bar slowed down a little bit, I ran outside to burn one. Being the honest chap I am, I put a handful of musk on my neck and face, and donned my "Cosby sweater" pin.

I wasn't in the door more than two seconds when people started commenting,"Hey, the 70's wrapped 30 years ago Travolta."

"Um, Bill Cosby called. He'd like his sweater back." You get the idea.

On the drive home, I absolutely had to roll down all four windows. I could taste the Jovan musk in the base of my throat. When I went to bed, I kept getting up from the smell. The next day after a shower, the smell was still there! Down to 40% I'd say, but equivalent to a 110% of contempory cologne. Musk is to fragrances, as moonshine is to alcohol. 180 proof baby!

You'd think I'd have learned a lesson, and waited awhile before cheating again. Nope. Next day, driving to Target. I heard a song that made me want to smoke. "Radar Love" I believe. So I got the musk out of the trunk, and put on my button.

I entered Target with a "whoosh" throught the sliding glass doors. The draft from the doors propelled my musky scent 20 feet ahead of me. Smack dab into a line of ten people, who were waiting for Starbucks. I think nine of the people looked at me(and smelled me) simultaeously. It was surreal. Mean looks. Looks of disdain and dissaproval. Like they knew ; by the button and my scent; I just snuck a cigarette in the car.

Then it hit me. How smart of her! Those faces of disgust and confusion, were so similar to the expressions I saw on Lisa's face everytime see busted me smoking. So she was there, even when she wasn't their. Those faces were her. Those faces became my conscious. So much so, I got sick of seeing them. I smoked one more time after the Target experience. About three weeks later.I was in my apt around 3am. Lisa and I broke up the night before. We just ran out of gas, and we knew it. But still I was sad; I couldn't sleep, and I wanted a smoke.

In her honor, I splashed a tiny bit of Lilac Vegetal on my cheek, and put that silly button on my night stand. I set it next to a clean ashtray I would never use again...

Steve McCroskey: Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking. -Airplane! (1980)