Not a patch on willpower

I appear to have agreed to try quitting smoking again last night. Rock God was going on about his plan to quit today and according to himself, in a haze of exhaustion and under the influence of one whole glass of wine, I agreed to join him. I also, if he is to be believed, suggested he stick a patch on me before he went to work so that when I woke up I wouldn't be absolutely gagging for a smoke as usual. There is a hazy memory there, but it's hazy and could have been planted in my head by subliminal suggestion while I slept.

So this morning I woke up. Rock God & Smarty pants were long gone off to work & school and Monkey Boy had given me a great lie-in. I could hear him happily crooning Bob The Builder from his cot and I dragged myself wearily from the folds of my lovely duvet. Got up, got dressed, did potties and washes and dressing (For Monkey boy you see, especially the potty bit) Flopped my way downstairs and plied his little self with juice so I could have a moment for my very favourite morning ritual.

A large glass of diet coke poured, kettle on and off I tripped out into the sunshine to have that glorious first smoke of the day. I sat on my little decking, bathed in sunlight, observing that no plants had died in the night and some had even produced some pretty flowers. Happily checking my emails and texts, completely unaware that I was double-dosing myself with nicotine.

I spent my morning cleaning up after our most excellent little dinner party last night. Snappy cooked her legendary Goulash, brought it over and even cooked the spuds for us!! Being shooed from your own kitchen is one of those anxious moments and I actually found myself watching her in the window, having been exiled to the garden. As if she were going to break the cups and smash the plates, it's not only Bilbo Baggins that hates that you know!! But I digress.... a lot!

I whiled away the morning being all wifely and domestic like the goddess I am, and not emailing and texting like a mad wan, I swear. A smoke here, a smoke there..... Rock God rang me on his tea-break.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" says I.

"Have you been good?"

I paused a moment "eh, yes, I've been very well behaved altogether, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I've only had 1" he gloats.

The conversation slowly swirls in my head and begins to form a blurry picture.

"Am I wearing a patch?" "Eh yeah, you didn't forget did you?"

"Ah bugger!!"

He's been laughing at me all morning, but I'm not gumming for a smoke!! There's always tomorrow eh?!!

Our Story

They meet in a cloud of smoke. Rock music belting out, straining to hear each other's names. Introductions, handshakes and smiles. Then off again. More distraction.

Weeks later, walking, herself and a friend. They see them on the other side of the road, too far to call. The new boys. Her friend unsure, likes neither much. Wild, she likes the dangerous one, broody dark eyes pull her in.

A nod and a smile as they pass. Months later, she's bagged Dark Eyes, they meet again. In his room this time. Small talk, chit chat, slowly comfort sets in. They're in love, her and Dark eyes, so he's told. He watches, not sure what it is he sees.

Comfort develops into friendship. He makes her laugh, they share a beer, poverty stricken. Rationing cigarettes between them. Dancing to the same songs. She can really talk to him, he listens, he doesn't say much, but that's just his way. She becomes protective of him. Advising him about girls, none are good enough. Dark eyes is still hers, or at least she is his. His eyes are not his only dark feature.

She has a baby girl, he doesn't judge her, not even secretly, he is alone in that. She's young, so is Dark eyes. He visits her in hospital, her baby is sick, she's upset, he makes her laugh, the only one who can. Dark eyes begins to object, he pushes them apart. She misses him but stays away to keep the peace.

Friends, only ever friends, but so close. She begins to see him in a new light. Tanned, muscular, rippling abs, glossy hair, leather jeans, soft brown eyes, so kind but shining with mischief. He still makes her laugh, Dark eyes only ever makes her cry.

A break-up, a messy, nasty one. Her heart shattered. Her friend takes her out, buys her a rose on the way. He's in the bar, head hanging, eyes stung, not shining. Dumped by the latest girl. Hot, they had agreed, amazing ass, but vacuous she thought, and shallow, even if she hadn't shared that. Best without her really. He's crestfallen. She gives him the rose and a little kiss, it'll be ok. They dance. Every weekend from then on they dance. He strokes her hair, holds her tight, smiles with his eyes. Still friends. Why, everyone wonders.

He's living with friends but unhappy. Spending more time in her flat that his. Watching movies, staying up all night, chatting, laughing. Months pass. A stolen kiss here and there but no more. She realises she's in love again, but really this time. She tries to keep it in check. They talk about it, he's afraid, their friendship is precious he argues.

A few weeks later, sitting in her flat, an ad break, their eyes meet. They kiss. Long and soft. The doorbell an interruption, his lift is here. Moment stolen. As he leaves he turns "Be my girlfriend?" "Sure" she grins, her heart exploding in her chest.

A week locked away together. Getting to know new facets of each other. They need a night out. Another cloud of smoke, straining to hear one another again. "Hey" he says, turning to her. "What?" she replies, distractedly, expecting him to ask for a smoke. "I love you". She reciprocates without skipping a beat.

A decade passes. They sit together in the evenings, husband and wife now. They still watch movies, still chat. He still makes her laugh. They dance, arms wrapped around each other, in the kitchen. Their children pushing in to dance with them.