Someone on a mailing list asked about cigars. Fred replied.
Definitely (or defiantly, the other word the spell checker suggests) one of my hard boundaries. More so cigarettes — double yuck. Nothing like kissing someone who tastes like licking an ashtray. Nothing like burning eyes and hacking lungs. Nothing like visiting loved ones dying in the hospital.
That was always my problem with the Clinton thing — I really don’t care about the president’s sex life (even if he’s lying about it to Congress), much less what consenting adults choose to put in each others orifices (orifi?). But a cigar? Bleh.
I guess the best I can say is that cigars (quality ones) aren’t quite as nasty and chemical-filled as cigarettes.
But still. Yuck!