Shared controlled relapse

The title of this entry is intentionally chosen to indicate the tenuousness of such a dynamic.

The non-smoking (and thus, non-fetish) phase of our relationship lasted a little while. She kept her resolve and didn't smoke (save for the couple of slip-ups) for almost 3 months. And I kept my composure and, of course, didn't encourage her to do it. I did my best to discourage, in fact. But then there came a particular week where she was thinking about smoking every day. There was a mutual (though unknown to her) crescendo of obsessing occurring. Each day, without fail, I would receive a text message from her at some point during the day with the words:

"I want to smoke."

I knew that text would be coming. And because I knew it would be coming, I was always aroused in anticipation. I can almost smell the obsession in the air. Maybe you don't understand. But probably, you do. As a result of this anticipation, I was masturbating a lot that week. It's interesting, the parallel of the obsession. The more she thought about it, the more I thought about it. And while trying to remain neutral, and not say anything to her about it, to not query her about it in absence of her mention, it had created something of a frenzy in my mind. Because I knew. Eventually, she's going to smoke. And though I've seen it before, and it's honestly not a big deal, right? But because of the anticipation. All about the anticipation. I got more and more excited.

There was one day, at the end of that week. Maybe it was a Thursday. She texts me and says that she is going to smoke today. I realize that she's reached the point where the fantasizing and obsession are at the cusp of action. And here's the first time that I feel like I "intervened" in a self-serving way. I said "Can you wait until you get home?" Meaning: "I want to watch." She agreed she would wait. So now, I'm trying to find a way to get home from work as early as possible. And it seems a bit irrational that I'm shuffling my day around to try to be there for this, but it is immensely arousing, and I am on sexual autopilot. In fact, her desire to smoke was great enough that I think she was as eager for me to get home as I was.

I know I should probably go through the entire account of what it was like to watch her, but since I'm trying not to be a porn site, I'll ruin your turn-on and change topics here. Sorry.

So she smoked. Yes. And we made an agreement that she would only smoke rarely. And that agreement has been upheld, by and large. She may go a week without smoking. And then she might smoke once or twice a day for several days in a row. We have made other pseudo-agreements about the subject as well. The most recent was that she will only smoke with me. This serves an interesting multiple purpose. First, if that is something she can stick with, it means that she is less likely to let it spiral into a full relapse. Second, it means that it's something that's not just for her, but between us. It's a pretty generous recognition of the fetish, and the power it has for me.

On one occasion, shortly after the controlled relapse, there was a day where we met up in the afternoon, and I could tell that she'd been smoking without me. It was interesting, because I knew that the only cigarettes she'd had were at my house, so I assumed that she must have smoked with a friend. I called her on it, and she said she hadn't been smoking. But she doesn't realize that I have spent the last 30 years becoming more and more attuned to subtle hints of such things, and I knew she'd smoked. So I felt pretty upset that she was lying to me. Interestingly, the issue was not that she smoked. I wasn't upset that she smoked. I was upset that she deprived me of the opportunity to even hear her story about it, by denying it. After about 15-20 minutes of an awkward exchange, she finally admitted it. And she told me the story about how it had happened. Of course, I was turned on by this. In this way, she's in kind of a no-lose situation. Deep down inside, she knows that my arousal over the topic is going to trump my concerns or disappointment, or even my judgment, if there were any.

In some ways, I worry that all this creates an odd co-dependence between us. For instance, it means that if she's not feeling like being sociable, but she really wants to smoke, she might still be inclined to want to get together with me. I think that's a bit of a paranoid concern on my part, because usually we want to be together all the time. And if she really wanted to smoke by herself, she'll do it. And then she'll tell me about it, probably. And then I'll be aroused more than I'll be concerned about the "broken rule."

But it's a bit odd. It's an odd dynamic.

Of course, a smoking fetish is an odd thing, so it would stand to reason that there will be odd dynamics around it.

I still stand by the assertion that I would not want a full relapse. I don't have a good grasp of what the health risks are for someone who smokes 3-5 cigarettes a week. Especially, taken in the aftermath of having smoked regularly for 20 years of her life. I don't know, and I don't think anyone can state, on an individual basis, what the likelihood is for negative effects.

If the relapse progresses at any point, we'll have to readdress it again. For now, we're in a strange little dance of shared enjoyment of this occasional smoking thing.

Why do we like what we like? (Part 1)

I was looking back at some old entries, and found one that alluded to the possibility of me someday trying to explain why it is that I find Marlboro Red ("King", not "100") to be so sexy. I also indicated that it would be quite a hand-wave for me to attempt to justify that preference.

So why Marlboro Red? Why not Merit? Or Winston? Or American Spirit? Or Camel? They all look the same, from a visual fetishist's perspective, right? But if I see the categorical "her" smoking, and I find out it's Marlboro Red, it does considerably more for me than if it were something else. Clearly I'm not the only one, because there are entire websites devoted primarily to Marlboro Red imagery (e.g. RandomSnaps). Why? Why? Why?

It would be easy to look for some sort of Freudian or Oedipal explanation. But there is not one readily available. My sister, a life-long smoker, smoked Winston when I was little (she was much older than me). My mother, who smoked when I was a child, smoked Tareyton. So it's not that obvious of a connection.

It's definitely true that, when we were growing up, Marlboro was the "popular" cigarette. It's what the kids smoked. So maybe it was just the implantation of the norm-of-the-time that lingered on forever. But I feel like there's more to it than that. There's something I associate with Marlboro Red, in particular. They're reputed to be a "strong" brand, though they are not any stronger than many other regular cigarettes, and actually nowhere near as strong as many European brands. But there's something about the image. It's almost as if it's the ruggedness of the Marlboro Man that penetrated our psyches through advertising, juxtaposed with the femininity of woman: the "yin" and "yang", if you will. There's definitely an attachment in the mind of "bad girl" associated with the brand. But why more than any other brand? Wouldn't smoking at all constitute "bad girl"?

Marlboro Red was never marketed to women, from what I recall of advertising. I'm searching for ways, reasons perhaps, that advertising might have played a role in our fetish selections. But it's not apparent.

Interestingly, there was one point in time where my preference seemed to drift to a different place. When I was between 18-20 years old, I had a temporary preference for "all white 100" and even tried to persuade a girlfriend who was smoking Newport to switch to these. Again, this is all odd to me, because I don't know why I wanted that either. I have no idea. I just wanted it. And then, at some point, in my mid-to-late 20's, I flipped back to the Marlboro Red thing again, and never changed preference from that point onward.

The current girlfriend, whom I mentioned earlier (and is a recent ex-smoker), was smoking Marlboro Medium 100. That was close (but no cigar, pun intended) to my preference (though I never talked to her about that). But even that subtle difference made me think "If only it had been Marlboro Red".

Actually, the entire notion of "brand preference" is so strange with cigarettes, if you ask me, anyway. How do people identify themselves? Smokers will claim that it's about flavor. But certainly they haven't sampled every choice available, like you'd do with cheese or salad dressing, before deciding you prefer "cheddar" or "Ranch", for example. There's something about image, and associations, and other scarcely tangible factors. At some point, I'd love to ask my current girlfriend how she made the choices she made (she has mentioned that at various times it was either Camel, or American Spirit, or the Marlboro Medium). But I hesitate, somewhat, to get into the discussion, because a) it will turn me on, which I am at least pretending to try not to do, and b) it may make her want to smoke, which I am definitely trying not to encourage.

It reminds me of a song by Regina Spektor, called "That Time", where she sings:

Hey remember that time when I would only smoke Parliaments?
Hey remember that time when I would only smoke Marlboros?
Hey remember that time when I would only smoke Camels?
Hey remember that time when I was broke?
I didn't care, I'd just bum from a friend.

Strange juxtaposition of emotions

I was thinking the other night about the question "What if my girlfriend were to start smoking again?" It might have been a slight variation on that, such as "I wonder if she's going to 'relapse' or slip-up?" The thought of that happening stirred in me, simultaneously, an eclectic mix of emotions. All at once, I felt: fear, curiosity, arousal, anger. There were a few others in my list, that have since eluded me. But the point here is that my mixed feelings about smoking, combined together with my struggles with (the illusion of) control, makes me a bit schizophrenic when it comes to the topic.

Fact: I do not want my girlfriend to start smoking again. I think it's phenomenal that she has successfully stopped, and it is a joy to have her smell like her. That, of course, on top of all the major health benefits, and lifestyle benefits, and self-esteem (since she doesn't want to be a smoker anymore).

Fact: If she "slipped-up" and smoked, I would wish that I could have seen it, and I'd be incredibly aroused by it. I would probably break my own rules and ask her to give me all the details about why she did it, how it felt, etc. (I am trying not to discuss the fetish, because I don't want to encourage her). I would rationalize this inquiry on the grounds that it's an allowance to myself, i.e. "slip-up" that is comparable in degree and nature to her slip-up. That may be fucked up logic, but I'm only human.

I'm actually proud of the fact that I have never asked her to smoke for my arousal (though, as I think I stated in previous entry, I did go so far as to ask her to hold one, while on a video chat, after she'd confessed to a slip-up previously). This probably sounds ridiculous to some of you, I realize. But it's a big deal to me to not persuade someone to relapse on their addiction. Call me crazy!

Let's look at a different example. If my girlfriend were an alcoholic, and I found it incredibly arousing to have sex after a few glasses of wine, would it be acceptable to ask her to just have a few glasses of wine with me? Now, you can tell me that alcoholism is different because it destroys people's lives. But so does smoking. It may be true that one night of reckless drinking can have a far greater impact, i.e. if you get into a car accident. But over years of chronic use, I think anyone would be hard-pressed to argue that smoking is less harmful than alcohol.

I know you didn't come here to read that kind of stuff. But I told you right at the top of this page that I'm a perplexed fetishist, not a carefree one.

If you haven't checked out LaylaMonroe, by the way, she's my favorite YouTube specimen at the moment (I figured I'd throw that in just so you don't think I'm completely righteous).

Possible cure?

Okay, right off the bat, must acknowledge that the title of this blog is tongue in cheek. I don't believe or expect to be "cured" of something that turns me on. But I have come upon a circumstance that makes me think more about the fetish, and the choice I have about what role it will or will not play in my life.

I started dating someone who recently quit smoking, after over 20 years of addiction. She's had a hard time quitting, spending the past year doing the best she can, with a few relapses. It seems that the issue is really not a physiological one, so much as being about "willingness" to stay away from it. When I met her, I had no idea that she'd been a smoker, and (having met online) I assumed that she was not, since her profile had indicated "not at all." And I was honestly glad that she was not, because I have found it much easier to have an unplagued relationship with people who are firmly non-smokers (in recent years, anyway). On one of our first dates, we'd been fooling around a bit, and afterwards she sort of absently proclaimed "I really want to smoke a cigarette." This, of course, hit me like a sledgehammer, in a variety of ways. The first thought was curiosity. The fetish mind immediately wanted to know everything about it. Because Pandora's Box was being cracked open. If she'd never mentioned it, I may have never myself (or at least not for a long time). But it was out there. We had a little back and forth discussion about it. I queried obliquely with something like "Oh yeah?" which was the best I could do to mitigate the latent question of "Tell me more, please!" because I really didn't want to launch down the fetish avenue. I didn't even ask her if she'd been a smoker. I did the best I could to be neutral. She pointed out that she knew it was disgusting, to which I responded (honestly) that it was actually kind of a turn on to me. I underplayed it. But I decided that, given how hard it is for me to open up about this, I may as well take this chance to get it out there, and be done with it. The longer I wait, the harder it is to reveal. And I guess I would rather be known, and understood, than not.

The next morning, she was giving me a ride to the airport, and on the car ride, she again announced that she really wanted to stop and buy cigarettes. This, of course, turned me on, but I kept my mouth shut because I don't want to encourage it. And more importantly, I was really attracted to her for exactly who I saw her to be. It had nothing to do with smoking. And I didn't want it to morph into being "iconic" - I didn't want the fetish to become the thing that I was attracted to.

Long story short, when I was out of town, she relapsed and started smoking again. And it became clear that she was a long-time smoker, and that this was a struggle for her. When I returned, we had to navigate the fact that she was now smoking. We talked about what she wanted, and it was clear she did not really want to be a smoker again. I made it clear to her that I accepted her as she was, smoker or not. The first week or so of this, I did allow myself to watch her, and to get aroused by it. But something happened during that week, as it became (I think) evident that we were going to be more serious as a couple. I decided (and it turns out, she decided too) that we were not going to have smoking be "a thing" for us. And I stopped watching her (for the most part). And she consciously tried not to explore my interest, or probe what the fetish was all about. We did the best we could to have smoking just be a thing she does, because right now she's having a hard time with it, but not a part of our relationship.

Over the course of a few weeks, her struggle with the relapse actually (perhaps not surprisingly) resulted in her smoking even more than was acknowledging to herself. I think there was some sort of internal battle with willingness to let go of it again. I felt strongly that I didn't want be pressuring her to stop, because I didn't want it to turn into a control thing. But deep down, it was obvious that a) she didn't want to be a smoker, and b) she hadn't fully accepted that she'd returned to smoking habitually again. Finally, after a few weeks of this, I decided to have a conversation about it. Skipping the details, the end result was that she decided to quit again.

I felt really good about the fact that I had taken the position of what was best for her health and self-confidence. It is a struggle for me to do that, because I'm basically saying "I'm willing to turn down the thing that turns me on more than anything else in the world, with the person whom I am most interested in being turned on by, because I love you, and I don't want to selfishly encourage you to do something that is bad for you." To a non-fetishist, this would be so obvious, but to those of you who are reading this, you probably have one of two reactions. Either 1) you think I'm an idiot - and why would I pass up the perfect situation with a great girlfriend who is a natural smoker! or 2) Wow... that's got to be hard, but it is a pretty impressive sacrifice.

Her resolve lasted nearly a month. Then, I went out of town again, and she had a brief relapse. This time, it didn't result in her hopping back on the habit. It was just an isolated few days, and she pulled it together again. I was a bit disappointed with myself though, because when she relapsed, I took that as license to get turned on by it. We were having a video chat (the first one ever), and she confessed to me that she'd smoked (which I sort of knew she was going to tell me). I sort of asked her to tell me about it, which she did. Then, I asked her if she still had any cigarettes, which she did. So I told her to get one, because I wanted to see her holding it. Of course, holding it made her want to smoke. So she went outside (no video, unfortunately) and smoked a cigarette while we were talking on the phone. And it turned me on immensely. But I felt like I'd let myself and her down a little bit. Because I did encourage her. In that moment, she may or may not have done it. But I said "Do it for me." We then talked about how it's a challenge for me, and we talked about how she doesn't really want to be a smoker anymore. And I confessed to her that I was giving myself license to show my arousal and interest, probably because of her relapsing.

The point here is that I'm trying to navigate a balance between my values and beliefs, and this primal thing that is inside of me, that I don't think will ever go away.

She knows that I will look at videos online, and she's okay with that. It's quite a powerful thing to have your partner tell you "I know there are things that turn you on that you'll think about on your own, and don't have to include me." I don't want her to be a smoker - not because I wouldn't love to watch her, and have insane passion resulting from it. And it's not that I want to deprive myself of that arousal. It's that I fucking love this woman. With all my heart. And I want her to be the healthiest, happiest version of herself that she can possibly be. And I know she feels better when she doesn't smell like smoke. And when she can breathe, and exercise without being winded. And when she doesn't have an addiction that she needs to hide from half the people in her life (and struggle with her own identity around it). So, for me, this love is recognizing that there is someone who means a billion times more to me than instant gratification.

It's a strange double standard I have about it. If I didn't really respect my partner, I might (as you've heard previously in this blog) indulge the fetish. If I knew that my partner was not in any way compelled toward addiction to smoking, but was only occasional with it, I might allow myself to indulge in the fetish. But when I think about a person with whom my whim could result in them getting trapped in a habit that's incredibly hard for them to break, it becomes a no-brainer.

I had some discussions a while back in a newsgroup where people were debating whether it is right or wrong to encourage and/or allow one's partner to be a smoker, and to engage in the fetish. There were a lot of attitudes on there that were of the variety "If she wants to smoke, then there's no reason why I shouldn't enjoy it" or "You're just denying yourself the greatest excitement imaginable because of guilt - and that's your problem - we don't want to hear about it." But I think that whether we have a smoking fetish or not, we are human beings. And there's some degree of ethical responsibility around our actions.

But that's just my opinion.

Online again... reflecting on years past

I've been gone for a long time now. The partner I refer to in recent(ish) posts below is gone. It didn't work. Turns out, we weren't compatible. And, once again, the fetish ended up keeping things together longer than they would have otherwise remained, because we had something to bond through (albeit in a fucked up, manipulative, damaging way). But, what started out looking like love, ended up looking like something else. For some reason, she seemed very interested and willing to talk about and explore the fetish. I thought this made her a good partner. But I realize now, in hindsight, that she was just doing the best she could to connect with me, and some part of her consciousness probably came to the realization that there were few common denominators remaining. So she took an uncalculated risk, and it didn't play out.

In addition to being a reader of the blog, she also became an author. We didn't go very far with that; certainly not as far as originally expected. So, all you see is a fragment below. It would be interesting to see what she'd say now, a year later, if she decided to complete the previously planned series. It might actually be more insightful to see what one's perspective would be, in the absence of a bond of love or trust or whatnot. Would I like what I hear? Would you like what you hear? Would it be a kind of mirror that would feel pretty horrible? Who knows.

I know what sort of fears my inner critic has. In fact, when the relationship ended (and when other relationships have ended, where this fetish has been a component), one of my first fears is "What are they going to say to their friends about it?" I always kid myself that my partners would not talk to their friends about the fetish. But seriously. Is that a realistic thought? Women will discuss all aspects of their sex lives with one another. And you can be sure that something as unusual as a smoking fetish would make the conversation list. I don't even know if I can go there. Just the thought of being in the same room as people who have heard about the fetish from someone else. It makes me cringe, and feel naked and exposed. "Freak" is what I think to myself. Even though it's certainly no weirder than people who want a thumb up their ass, or who require some sort of dress-up, or whatever. But all those things feel solidly in the realm of the sexual. The smoking fetish feels like it's quirkier because it is not ubiquitously categorized as sexual. I really don't know, though. Maybe that makes me more interesting? I'd just like to think that what I share in fantasy world remains in fantasy world. But I know I'm kidding myself. I can be certain that when my previous partner and I ended rather abruptly (my doing) and painfully, she probably confided in anger with a circle slightly larger than the one or two people who may have been privy to the information during the good times.

Why do I care? I just do. Self-acceptance is a long road, I guess.

Still Perplexed

I disappeared from this blog for about 4 months, as you probably noticed.

During that time, I had not noticed that a very generous major website added me to their list of new links. And the result was that when I randomly peeked at my "hit counter" on ActiveMeter (a great website), I was surprised to see that there was... how should I say... some activity on this blog.

I didn't abandon this blog because I ran out of things to say. And I also recognize that I never finished the story that I was trying to relate. But what happened, as has happened before in my life, is that I had another of my "pushing it back into the darkness" periods. A phase where whatever progress I have made in terms of self-acceptance, once again, is buried. And the topic goes back into the shame bucket.

I haven't told you about my current relationship, and I think the chronology of it will likely make its way onto this blog in the coming days, weeks, months; including the "special" feature that came to mind back in August when I last wrote here. What I will say right now is that the perplexed and conflicted part of me, I believe, still lies in the complete uncertainty as to whether I want to share this with a partner, or have it completely for my private self. On the one hand, there's a great allure to having a "fetish encounter". There's the sheer visual and sensational aspect of it. And there's also the knowledge that someone is doing something for me. But on the other hand, I feel like letting someone in on it is almost like allowing my own privacy to be violated. My fantasies are my fantasies. And when I ask someone to participate, they are no longer fantasies. Even if someone is trying to act out my fantasy, it's still not a fantasy anymore. It's a reality. And it starts to lose something. And as soon as that "suspension of disbelief" is itself suspended, all of the negative emotions start flooding in. The shame. The embarrassment. The feeling that I am encouraging something bad.

And, perhaps most of all, the feeling that I am giving up control.

The only thing that I really can control with respect to the fetish is my own decision to share or not share it. If I choose to never speak of it, and merely view the same overplayed videos on YouTube, then I have control. It's private. Mine. No one can judge me. But if I share it, then I no longer have any control over it. And I have found that, when this occurs, I start to try really hard to control it. And that makes me manipulative. And if my partner (and this has been true with every partner) does not carry out my fantasy in the exact manner that is most appealing to me, then I either want to try to "instruct" them, to which some people are more or less receptive, or I just privately wish that they'd done it differently.

With my internets, I have complete control over the programming. If someone doesn't smoke the brand that turns me on? I can just click another link. If someone doesn't exhale the way that I like? Click another link. If someone wears too much makeup? Another link. If someone acts really stupid and slutty in a way that I don't like? Link. There's really no limit. And you can always find another link. And really, you only need to find one that's good enough to have your splendid orgasm and get on with the day.

If you let a partner - a lover - a real person into this fetish, then you cannot click another link.

And after your orgasm, you can't turn your back on the thing you just did that's kind of okay and kind of not okay. It's still there. Because when the fantasy stops, your real person, whom you eat dinner with, watch movies with, take walks with, go to the gym with, ride to work with, sleep with... all those "normal" things. They're still there. And they know you. They know what you want. And I have to be there with that and be okay with it.

And though sometimes I feel I can let someone all the way in on this, eventually I retract and decide to keep it to myself. Not just because I don't feel comfortable with them knowing who I am, but also because I am uncomfortable with who I become. The controlling. The manipulation. Not necessarily control and manipulation that is acted upon, but the desire to do it.

And that's why I have been gone for 4+ months.

But now I'm back.

She Says

I’m not sure where to begin. The idea was proposed to me some time ago (a little over five months to be exact) and I was intrigued. I had been reading this blog since the beginning. Some of what was written, I already knew. Some of it was new to me. And, like many of you, I followed the plot, characters and dialogue with interest. Most of us cannot resist a peephole into the deeper, darker personal lives of others, even those that we are already close to.

Throughout the process of writing this story, my partner has expressed doubts as to whether he is doing something that is good for him, for me and for our relationship. I viewed it as a positive thing, even when certain elements of his story caused me momentary pain or discomfort.

The proposal was this: to help finish the story by contributing my perspective on the role my partner’s smoking fetish has played in our relationship. One of us would write an entry telling a portion of the story then the other would add their perspective on what had been previously written and add a little bit more. We would continue this way, back and forth, until the “final chapter” of the smoking fetish story was complete.

That was the plan last summer. It didn’t end up working out that way.

There are a number of reasons why the ending never got off the ground. The biggest and most obvious one was that, even as the entry previous to this one was being written, cracks were forming in the relationship. The cracks were not directly related to my partner’s smoking fetish but issues surrounding the fetish certainly added to the distrust, anger and resentment that were causing a massive communication breakdown between us.

A second reason was that, at the time, I was living out of the country and was finishing the last month of a summer job. My intention was to start writing entries while abroad but stresses from the distance and the relationship itself kept interfering with my desire or inclination to do so. Every time I thought about sitting down to write an entry I just sat there feeling tired and depressed. I’m not the type of person who is a prolific writer when dealing with strong emotions. It’s like the old “Stop, Drop and Roll!” slogan for fire-drills – when under intense emotional pressure I have difficulty being productive at anything. I just sit there and wait until the situation has passed so that I can move forward again and process what has happened.

But I digress. None of you came here to read about my emotional issues – you came to read about stories, thoughts and feelings related to the smoking fetish. Some of you may be curious to see what I have to say as the partner of someone with the smoking fetish. I don’t know how much documentation there is out there on that perspective (I’m guessing not much). That’s the story I’m here to tell, so I will tell it.

Starting at the beginning:

My partner and I first met several years ago and then reconnected about a year and a half ago through a mutual friend. At the time I lived in a different state and was back home for a visit. Our mutual friend decided to play matchmaker and suggested that we all meet up for drinks. I had no clue that my partner had a smoking fetish. In truth, I barely knew him at all. My friend suggested that she and I have a cigarette (given that we both smoked socially on occasion) and I asked my now-partner whether it would bother him. He replied that it would not. It’s a bit comical to remember that my primary concern at the time was that my partner not be “inconvenienced” by our smoking or think we were unhealthy or disgusting.

We struck up an online friendship which, after some back and forth, turned into serious flirtation and then a full-on long distance relationship. I learned about his smoking fetish when he first came to visit me in my then-home state. I can’t remember why the subject of smoking came up or how. We might have even discussed the possibility of smoking together “for fun.” But at some point in time he admitted that while he was willing to smoke with me he wasn’t really interested in smoking with me. He wanted to watch me smoke.

Then he told me why. I thought – interesting.

I was intrigued. I didn’t really know anything about the smoking fetish (or any fetishes for that matter). My experience up to that point was limited to cheesy comedy routines where the shoe salesman has a foot fetish and starts drooling on the customer’s high heels. So I did some research on the internet. I didn’t find much other than some fetish websites (pictures of girls smoking in various states of dress, make up, etc.), an entry in Wikipedia and a few other websites/notes about the smoking fetish. But because it was a new romance and – I’m actually blushing writing this – I thought that smoking could add a certain amount of creativity and excitement to our sex life. I do not think of smoking as a healthy habit but in an artistic sense it has always had an appeal for me as something sexy, rebellious, exciting. Even a little bit dangerous.

Some years ago I read an article on Gwyneth Paltrow that had included photos of her with 30s or 40s style hair, dressed in negligee and smoking a cigarette. I’m not bi-sexual but I loved the elegance and the artistry of the photos so I cut one out and kept it on my bulletin board. I’m not sure that I would have found the pictures as appealing if I did not have a certain level of attraction to smoking.

So I thought that perhaps smoking and my partner’s smoking fetish could provide an additional intensity to our relationship as long as a) it was regulated (I didn’t want to become addicted) and b) we continued to communicate clearly about his feelings on the subject. This may sound naïve and thoughtless – maybe it was. I didn’t take his fetish for granted, certainly, but because I’d never been in a relationship with anyone who had a fetish (at least to my knowledge) I did not fully understand the strength of the feelings that surrounded it; how deep-rooted a sense of shame and discomfort my partner has around the topic.

For awhile it wasn’t an issue for me. Smoking was part of our romantic life but we lived so far apart that most of our “together” time (via phone, email, chat) involved getting to know each other and making plans for the future that we wanted to create together. We decided that living so far apart was not a scenario that worked long-term for us and made the decision to move in together. I packed up my various possessions and moved back to our home town. That’s when things became more complicated.

I think that I will stop here and see what he has to say.