![]() Twenty minutes into my smoking pleasure, my three-year-old appeared on the porch with one of the cigars in each hand, completely damaged and torn. I must say this was one of the richest and deepest-flavored cigars I'd ever experienced. I immediately placed 14 of the cigars in my humidor, opened a bottle of Samuel Adams and headed for the patio to experience one of these rare beauties. When I arrived home, I found my wife and two small children, ages three and 14 months, all enjoying an afternoon siesta. As I slowly opened the bag, I was delighted to set my eyes on 15 Partagas 150th Anniversary robusto-sized cigars. You can imagine how thrilled I was as I entered the humidor room to discover my name inscribed on a brown paper bag. Not only have I fallen in love, but I no longer smoke in secret.įollowing a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend, I decided to stop at my favorite tobacconist, Liberty Tobacco in San Diego, to replenish my severely depleted humidor. In the not too distant past, if anyone would have suggested that a cigar would be an icon of my falling-in-love experience, I would have laughed. Some of my most cherished moments with him have been simply sitting, smoking and talking. He visits frequently and we enjoy checking out the local tobacco shops, selecting and experimenting with a variety of fine cigars. I still have the cigar band he slipped on my finger recently-we're going steady. Instead of a letter sweater, he gives me his boxer shorts and oxford shirts. Every time I light up, I feel a sweet presence of this special man who has touched my life. Instead of sending roses, he makes sure my humidor is filled with my favorite smokes. The courtship has begun, and though it has its challenges with 1,514 miles between us, it has its own uniqueness as well. He returned to the Midwest the next day and has called me every day since. We ate, we drank, we smoked, we talked, we laughed and a sweet connection occurred. (It just so happened to be Valentine's Day). Several visits and months later, my cigar smoking player blurted out an invitation to join him and his traveling companion for dinner that night. Not only did I find your top-notch publication very educational, but it really opened my eyes: I was not the only woman in the world who smoked the occasional stogie! ![]() This experience prompted me to purchase my first copy of Cigar Aficionado in hopes of gaining more knowledge about the smoking of fine cigars. He was the first man I had met that didn't frown on my indulgence of cigars. ![]() When he learned through further conversation that I smoked cigars (what I now realize was garbage), he presented me with a beautiful Montecristo. I think he was surprised at how welcomed he was with his cigar and at my extreme interest in what he was smoking. Well, here I am, 25 years later, and I have never actually fallen in love-until now.Ī couple of years ago, an attractive gentleman sat at my game (I deal blackjack in Las Vegas) smoking a handsome Churchill. You know-the courtship, the roses, the letter sweater and all that Gidget-type stuff. As a teenage girl, I was often bemused with the dreams and plans of how I was going to fall in love. ![]()
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