A moment that changed me: my girlfriend criticised my kisses – and it led to the best decision of my life | Life and style

In 1970, when I was a college freshman in Boston and living away from home for the first time, I started smoking cigarettes. One pack a day quickly increased to two packs a day, or a cigarette every 30 minutes or so.

I choreographed my life around my cigarettes, taking a drag after every meal, taking a drag with a drink, and blowing smoke rings while I wrote, usually late at night. I didn’t need any excuse to smoke, but I found plenty; every occasion is suitable.

Oh, I loved smoking, that’s true. I loved the cedar taste of the tobacco, the earthy smell, the whole elaborate ritual. But most of all, I savored the spectacle: the flash of the flame to light my cigarette, the amber glow at the end, the tendrils of vapor curling under a reading lamp like a primordial fog. It was like self-hypnosis.

I continued like this for the next six years, through college and my first job. From the beginning, I considered myself pretty cool. I knew that inhaling nicotine down my throat and absorbing it into my bloodstream was bad for me, unhealthy in the extreme, and potentially cancerous. However, I had no intention of stopping. Why would I do it? I was 24 years old and therefore invulnerable to bodily harm, my immortality guaranteed. Besides, I was stupid.

Until I met Elvira.

It was a blind date, and we became serious quickly, boyfriend and girlfriend within a few weeks. Elvira had a good heart and an even character, in two completely opposite respects. She was also competent and sensible, qualities I greatly lacked. It never hurt that I found her beautiful too.

Elvira and I got along well, with one exception: she hated that I smoked. I hated it! She was so adamantly opposed to my habit of smoking 40 cigarettes a day that she forbade me to smoke in her presence. She even forbade me from smoking in my own apartment, banishing me to the sidewalk outside.

And once, unforgettable, she told me bluntly that kissing me was like licking the inside of an ashtray. This turned out to be the deciding factor for me. If my kisses disgusted my darling, our romance was surely doomed. Who wants to kiss an ashtray?

So I quit smoking. Oh, I’ve tried more than once. I challenged my family and friends to bet against me cold turkey and ended up losing hundreds of dollars. One day, I had the brilliant idea of ​​smoking for a whole day without stopping. I lit one cigarette after another, in rapid, uninterrupted fire, from morning to evening. My assumption was elementary: if I made the act of smoking sufficiently revolting to me, I would have no choice but to stop and spare myself further insults to my system.

But the next day I returned to my trusty Salems.

Finally, on January 1, 1977, about 14 months after meeting Elvira, and as a long-awaited New Year’s resolution, I quit smoking for good. Nine months later, we moved in together. Seven months later, I asked Elvira to marry me and she accepted. Eight months later we had our wedding.

And that was just the beginning. Four years later, our son, Michael, and five years later, our daughter, Caroline. Today we have a grandson, Nicola, and a granddaughter, Lucia.

What would have happened if I had continued to smoke for the past 48 years? What if I had defied Elvira, common sense and modern medicine? How different would my life have been (provided I had survived my addiction in the first place)? How would I feel? How would I look? How well could I function?

One thing is certain: all that tar and carbon monoxide wouldn’t have done me any good. My skin would probably have taken on the texture of parchment, my complexion a gray pallor. My blood vessels would have narrowed, slowing my circulation, and my damaged lungs would likely have deflated and given way.

But quitting gave me a fresh start. And because I quit, I had enough wind in my sails to play basketball on a playground in New York, often with kids half my age, for 45 years. These days, I still have enough breathing capacity to run in a park with our running grandchildren, now ages two and seven.

But the best part is that because I broke my habit, I gained my bride for life. Since that pivotal moment, I have had the opportunity to kiss Elvira, now my wife of 47 years, day and night, without feeling like an ashtray.