My boyfriend's college roommate recently moved to Austin and because we have an extra room, I agreed to let him stay with us. I realized almost immediately this was a huge mistake because the minute he came barreling through the door I could tell he was a smoker. He absolutely reeked of cigarette smoke. I had my boyfriend ask him to go outside if he needed to smoke because we have a big, covered patio, but he goes out there so often the smoke comes back into the house. He's only been here a week and I have reached my limit, but my boyfriend told him he could stay until he finds a job. I don't think I can wait that long. Honestly if I had known he was a smoker, I wouldn't have agreed to this at all. Now I spend my nights holed up in my bedroom, while my boyfriend and his smokeshow friend yuk it up in our living room. Should I just move back home with my parents in Dallas, or should I tell them both, "Time's up?"
- Trying Not to Inhale
First of all, let me just say for all the impressionable kids out there looking for something to do with their hands: Smokers are cool. Can you imagine Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, Keef Richards, Sid Vicious, or the Marlboro Man without a cigarette dangling from their lips? And it's not just scruffy old white dudes who are risking the C word chasing that tubercular booze weasel hack, plenty of young hotties have gotten into the game as well: Jennifer Lawrence, Dua Lipa, Jenna Ortega ... even ... gasp! ... Miley Cyrus! And I thought her Mrs. Roper-three-pack-a-day rasp was just an affectation.
Back in the day, smoking was a social activity - mainly because everybody smoked. When I was a kid in the Seventies, my doctor smoked, my gym teacher smoked, my dad smoked, my mom smoked (but only when she was drinking Blue Nun), and lots of my classmates smoked. They even had their own smoking area at our junior high. Yeah, you fucking heard me. Times were different back then. Life was cheaper. Our parents found it amusing when we used to chase after the DDT-spraying mosquito trucks on our bikes. Secondary smoke was so prevalent it was just primary smoke. Even nonsmokers were getting facefuls of it everywhere they went: Work, schools, restaurants, sporting events, planes, trains, buses, toilets.
And then, something crazy happened ... no, not in Florida (but good guess). It was actually California. In 1995 they banned smoking in restaurants. Those sick fucking commie bastard left-coasters took away smokers' god-given freedom to blow their Pall Mall exhaust right into the neighboring table's fondue pot. As you can imagine, the world ended. Right there. Just like it would if the government were to ban assault weapons. In fact, that's how you can be certain we are living in a computer simulation - because there is no way the real world continued to exist after 1995. It is simply impossible.
And now, in this smoke-free utopia our benevolent programmers have created for us, you can't light up anywhere ... well ... except apparently casinos. I was in Vegas last week and a bunch of Pittsburgh Steeler fans were smoking cigars - aka douchenozzles. I'm calling them that because cigars are literal nozzles through which douchiness is sucked in and blown out. Not inhaled, mind you, like someone heroically exposing themselves to death before blowing it out on others, but held in the mouth in a cowardly fashion until exhaled - ostensibly for the sole purpose of ruining someone else's day. Cigars are easily the douchiest habit you can possibly develop. Dipping snuff is saintly in comparison. Cigarette smokers? - I am happy to give them a pass as long as they do it respectfully, and by that I mean in complete isolation, with literally no one else in sight. You know ... like masturbation ... only messier.
So, in regard to your situation: If one is going to be a thoughtful guest, one shouldn't foist their nasty habits on their hosts. If your BF's F didn't disclose he was a smoker before coming to stay with you, that's dick move. I think you are absolutely within your rights to request that he take his smoking elsewhere - not just off your patio but out of your life entirely. I'm sure he will understand because, like I said at the very beginning of this tirade: Smokers are cool.