Cigars

I like cigars.

I like the smell.

I like the flavor combination of cigar smoke and red wine.

I like that they force me to be outside, sitting calmly, for two hours.

I like the nicotine high.

Smoking cigars feels like a rejection of the self-righteous.

Cigars are uncouth.

They’re noxious.

Polite company finds them disgusting.

But I like them.

In other respects, I’m a healthy person.

I ride my bike for an hour a day.

I eat a pescatarian diet.

I stick to a strict sleep schedule.

Smoking cigars is my vice,

So I smoke in moderation.

One cigar every other week.

Not enough nicotine raise my blood pressure.

Or to irritate my mouth, nose, throat, or lungs.

But enough.

The FDA says there’s not enough evidence to show that smoking fewer than two cigars per day has negative health effects.

I don’t think it’ll kill me.

My friend Erik smokes cigars, but I rarely see him.

My dad smokes infrequently;

We have a cigar together once or twice a year.

If smoking cigars was a more social experience, I’d enjoy them even more, but I’d probably smoke more than I do, which would be a bad thing.

Tomorrow’s supposed to be sunny and I have no plans.

A good day for a cigar.