People all over the world indulge in the sweet nectar of the tobacco leaf. Whether you smoke it or dip it, in the end, we’re all searching for that glorious release of toxins to harmonically run rampant through our veins. However, the choice in intake tells everyone around you exactly what type of guy you are.
The Cigar Smoker
This guy is a distinguished and successful man who likes his scotch neat and his women young. He is the kind of guy who takes his time. Well into his prime, he is still single. He has no need to rush because wherever he’s going, whatever time he gets there is the exact time he needed to arrive. He is the man who holds the door for your mom at the gas station and makes the playfully flirty comment that lets her know he’s open for business. But only business, he has no patience for shenanigans.
He has just enough friends to play poker any day of the week. He has money but never flaunts it, yet he tips well. He has been known to solve a problem by knowing “a guy.” He doesn’t buy your basic bitch Vega or CAO Gold. In fact, anything below a 90 rating might as well be dirt. He is not spoiled; he is cultured. He won’t donate his time but will send an anonymous check. He doesn’t need recognition or an ego pat. He is confident. His dick size is average and that’s more than enough. He can make you or destroy you and has no quarrels about doing either.
The Cigarillo Smoker
This guy is basically the opposite of the cigar smoker, ie. a total douche. He is the guy who will pay for his Black and Mild with change and drop the wrapper on the ground as he walks over to his Chevy Lumina. His black t-shirt has now faded to a light charcoal and not one of the four tires on his car matches the other. The only thing he has going for him is that he has a girlfriend, but it’s not exactly a brag situation.
She wears pajama pants at one o’clock in the afternoon, on a Tuesday, to the grocery store. They both tend to have a select number of tattoos that look like they were done with a dull stick by a 6-year-old, yet they proudly display them like badges of honor. This is the guy who would find a wallet, pocket the cash, and discard the rest. This guy drinks generic Cola, not because it’s cheaper but because he swears it tastes better.
This guy is the epitome of all wrong in the world. He wears a man bun and, similarly to Cigarillo guy’s girlfriend, he also wears pajama pants in the middle of the day. He is more than likely into yoga or some other type of pothead excuse for exercise, yet he’s usually rather fit or at least slim. He brings his laptop into public places to write and brags about forming a vegetarian coffee book club. He is the type of guy who would point out that I didn’t include “vaping” in my opening paragraph.
He is the type of guy who would give you a chore like a small tree to plant or a basket weaving kit for your birthday. He is the guy who you want to murder every time you see him in the left lane holding up traffic because in his mind he believes he’s helping to curb speeding by not moving the fuck over. I fucking hate this guy. I hope that vape pen explodes in his mouth and destroys his vocal cords so I never, ever have to hear him send back a plate at a restaurant because it has gluten in it.
This guy is a zero fucks given type of guy. He has no filter, and he has no empathy. He is a hatchet away from being a psychopath. He shows up at work Monday morning not hungover but still drunk yet his work rarely suffers. He has spent his whole life fucking and has the battle scars. He is on his second wife. He hates her just as much as the first but this one can suck an avocado through a twisty straw so he actively nods to her dumb story about Rachel, the bitch from accounting who ate her sandwich, as he watches SportsCenter in a La-Z-Boy.
This guy was the quarterback in high school but didn’t play college due to a knee blowout. He has his old jersey hanging in the damp basement where he brews his own beer and hides a stack of nudie mags from the ’80s. This guy would give you the shirt off of his back if he likes you and shamelessly piss in your coffee if you ever crossed him. You can usually find this guy reliving his memories on the back porch with a tin of anything Wintergreen, except Skoal, because he’s not a pussy.
The Cigarette Smoker
This guy is your average Joe. Despite what you may claim, he is the man you aspire to be. He is the man with a shit job that he drives to every morning through 45 minutes of bumper to bumper traffic to provide for his family. He is the guy who cashes out the few vacation days he has in order to pay for his ungrateful son’s braces. He is a fucking magnificent specimen.
You will typically find him with a pack of Marlboro Reds, or Lights if his wife has been nagging him to quit. But how can he quit when the only solace he has is the five minutes at the end of the driveway as he pulls the third drag debating whether he should go inside or just say “fuck it all” and drive across country. But he goes inside. Not because he loves his family but because it’s the right thing to do. Because he was raised to be an upstanding citizen and his word is his bond. This is the guy you want to have in your trench and this is the guy who visits your grave to clear off the leaves once you perish..