Why I Love Cigarettes (And Why I Quit, Kind Of)

I left Riyadh at 18 years old for college in Seattle against my own will. My father insisted I get a “good education” in a non-party town abroad. My first few years there were naturally filled with depression and homesickness but what kept me in touch with my roots and my home was, unapolgetically, my pack of Parliament Lights.

I’ve always had a positive association with cigarettes because growing up they were consumed regularly (and heavily) by the people I loved most. The warmest, most loving people I know would hug me every time I see them and with every hug I get a whiff of the smoke residue mixed with perfume that almost made me high. I smoked my first cigarette with my cousins when I was 15 at our grandfather’s house in Jeddah.

Despite not inhaling the cigarettes properly, we felt free. One famous Saudi poet wrote a romantic piece about smoking and how it was his first feeling of being a man. That’s exactly how I felt. Smoking my first cigarette was arguably the first time I ever felt like a man who can make his own decisions.

I was never really into alcohol or drugs or any other stimulants because I never had a positive, nostalgic association with them. But cigarettes reminded me of home. They never let me down and were always there for me. It’s a love story, really. Which is why that poem resonated so much with me.

When I first began my journey of trying to quit, I asked myself if I had regretted smoking my first cigarette. In Jeddah. With my cousins who still remain my best friends. No, I did not. Because although cigarettes are bad in the long run I could never deny the peace they gave me. The comforting interactions I’ve had with strangers at smoking areas. The deep conversations I’ve had with coworkers during smoke breaks. These were all experiences that made me who I am and I wouldn’t be the same without the crisp white roll of tar and tobacco and all the bad chemicals that accompany what has arguably been a very nice addition to my days.

All good things come to an end, and that’s what makes them good. I vaped for a while but my lungs couldn’t handle whatever Chinese plastic was in there and the nicotine pouches were merely a bandaid to help me forget about my one true love, cigarettes.

The (quite literally) toxic but beautiful relationship I’ve had with cigarettes throughout my twenties is one that I will always remember. I’m quitting because I want to see how the discomfort changes who I am. I want to see how I transform and how I’m going to allocate the excess time and energy I now have after calling it quits with Big Tobacco. I wonder how this experience will change me. I wonder how I’m going to face it. I may have quit cigarettes but I will not quit living. Not yet.