Seconded although I was the lone smoker in some of the relationships.
“Mind if I smoke while you’re eating?”
And true to Joey P’s supposition, Miss Sharp did look bored.
On the other hand, while I’ve never smoked, I used to crave salty food after sex. Chorizo, for instance.
Billy Collins’ poem, The Best Cigarrette is a must-read accompaniement to this thread.
Here’s a taste:
Slang in this area could lead to some unfortunate misunderstandings.
In the UK the slang for a cigarette is a ‘fag’. It is quite common to for people to casually discuss their smoking habit in these terms. ‘How many fags a day do you smoke’ is a perfectly innocent question in polite conversation.
However, this does not translate well to a New York restaurant. In the other direction hearing an American worrying about the tipping custom and how to avoid ‘stiffing the waiter’ sounds like a very peculiar custom to British ears.
The countries separated by a common language.
Smoking was more socially acceptable back then.
True, but pretty much everyone is aware, I think, that “fag” = “cigarette,” especially if heard in an English accent, and especially in New York. The one that tripped me up was “I could murder a fag.” (Mean, I’m really jonesing for a smoke.)
One good poem deserves another:
Forough Farrokhzad’s poem “Another Birth” has the line
زندگی شاید افروختن سیگاری باشد ، در فاصلهء رخوتناک دو
همآغوشی
Life may be a cigarette lighting
Up in the narcotic pause between two lovemakings
Her poem “Couple” goes:
شب میآید
و پس از شب، تاریکی
پس از تاریکی
چشمها
دستها
و نفسها و نفسها و نفسها …
…
بعد دو نقطه سرخ
از دو سیگار روشن
…
Evening comes
And after evening – the dark
And after the dark
Eyes
Hands
And breathing and breathing and breathing
…
Then two red points
Of two lit cigarettes
…
One does wonder who was the first to think “We’re in bed, naked, after great sex. Now let’s light a fire or two and hold them such that the red hot embers can fall gently on our nether regions. Fun!”.
Maybe it was the same person who said “I’m so hungry I’m going to eat the next thing that comes out of that chicken’s butt.”
As a former smoker, I’d also agree that the post-coital smoke was pretty satisfying especially shared with your partner, just don’t have the ashtray on your chest when you butt it out. :eek:
???
If you mean an egg, you’ve weren’t paying attention in biology class.
Thank you!
And Shine on!
I haven’t smoked indoors for 30 years, so I don’t associate smoking with post coital bliss – not directly – but the truth is by the time we’ve prepped the set and ground it out and cleaned up the mess, I’m about due for a smoke, out on the deck.
This topic reminds me of a scene in a movie called “Real Men”.
It starred John Ritter and Jim Belushi.
In it, Jim is a CIA agent and John is just a regular Joe.
John gets ropped into spy stuff and both are getting shot at by a Russian agent.
Jim says he knows her and is going to try to work it out. They go into another room and Jim comes out smoking a cigarette.
John says “I did not know you smoked. Those things will kill you.”
Jim replies “I only smoke after sex.”
John says “Oh ok, not that often then.”
Jim says “Only about a pack a day.”
It’s called “humor” and has no basis in biological correctness. Of course, I doubt the Neanderthal that first discovered eggs were good eating knew of a cloaca either.
Now I’m confused. Unless I’m sadly mistaken, eggs and poop come out of the same opening.
Wow. Lifelong learning at the Straight Dope. Good post.
I’ve collected poopy eggs, though, so it’s not a perfect system.
Snakes and other reptiles also have a vent.