Skip to main content

I LIKE THE TORTURE IN YOUR EYES

 You are a 'social smoker' but you're always with people Brad, but I don't mind. You are drunk, staggering and you buy a cigarette for yourself, 'just one, one doesn't hurt.' That's what you've been saying the whole night, Brad. 

You have no lighter of your own because that'll make you a real smoker, so you do what all cigarettes yearn for - ask for a lighter from a gentleman smoking in the warm summer night but he is just like you so you have to do the cigarette kiss.

You both position yourselves for the great moment, you wish the moment will be as brief as possible. You haven't decided who will lean first so you both lean in at the same time. You are shorter than him so you're starting to feel weird, but don't worry, Brad, freedom is calling you in a few seconds.

You finally lean in even though your drunk self is acutely aware of how gay it is, but you are not homophobic and you're also a secure straight man. You wonder if you should close your eyes because the other guy's eyes are wide open and he seems like a guy who might change his mind halfway and violate your mouth instead. But closing your eyes reminds you of your pretty girlfriend so you say, 'damn it, let's do it with eyes open.' 

You're both drunk so your bodies are not steady, each time you go in for the kill, you miss the other guy's cigarette by an inch and he does the same so you almost kiss for real. But then, overcome with dread, you decide to lock in and you finally do it. Hurray! You're still disgusted by the ordeal but a few moments later, the amazing head rush convinces you that it was worth it. 

Those are the moments we cigarettes live for. Like you humans have your kiss, we have the cigarette kiss. That's the closest we can get to getting laid - the anticipation, the misses, and then the explosive contact, oh God! 

It also happens once in a while, so it's kinda like your sex life. But most of all, we love how it tortures you, especially insecure straight men like you. What are you so afraid of, Brad? What's so wrong with your lips being a few inches from another man's? Surely the cigarette acts like a barrier; as if any of you will abandon the sweet feeling of drunk smoking for a sloppy kiss!

Anyway, Brad, good talk. Don't start smoking 'for real,' because that'll mean I'll have to be celibate for a while. Cheers!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

True

 If we truly understood the weight of the word true , we wouldn't use it so easily. To call something true should mean it withstands time, survives eternity, remains untouched by change, unshaken by decay. By that standard, there is no true wealth, no true friendship, no true love. Even truth itself might be nothing more than a well-dressed facade— something we whisper to ourselves when we need the world to feel solid.

Symmetry of Strangers and Fragility of Freedom

 The Illusion of Things I sit here by the park bench—not really a park—some kind of a field that was to become a park but was abandoned halfway. I watch people walking, mostly in groups. Harmonious groups—mothers and children, school kids, young men dressed in different styles but in the same philosophical undertone, and packs of stray dogs with the same sickly blemishes on their furs. Such is life—a sucker for harmony and symmetry—as if in a constant race to achieve some long-lost balance. And it does this with a refined sense of urgency—one that our minds find hard to comprehend. Another group of young men passes by, draped in an assortment of fashionable clothes. I'm no expert in fabric and fashion, but I can tell each outfit varies in expense from the next. That creates some sort of symmetry—there is definitely the cheapest and the costliest. But that symmetry doesn't detract from the harmony. Amidst the different fabrics and diverse prices, all those outfits achieve someth...

Stop Telling My Story

 When someone is telling a story, just do the civilised thing—shut up and listen. Even if you know how the story ends, just shut up and listen. Every tonal variation, each sigh, all the pauses, the immersive eye contact, and the occasional outside gaze—they are there to make my story land, to make the ending hit like a punch. All for your entertainment. And mine too, for I love how smart and eloquent I sound when I tell a story. A story is like a journey—it starts with a simple step. It's a journey of pleasure, though it's rough at first, because I have to forage inside my arsenal, finding the perfect vocabulary that will better serve my story for your maximum pleasure. Towards the middle, I will wander away from the topic, just to stimulate your intelligent faculties—to keep you invested and impatient for the lofty ending. Climbing from the middle towards the inevitable climax—for all my stories have climaxes—I'll expect you to mute your vocal chords and employ your ears. ...