Non-smoking section

I have come to the realization that there is something missing from my life and that something is smoking. I don't smoke, never have, really, but I've tried a lot. I remember the first time I tried smoking I was in the back seat of April Lassiter's car. I was probably in 10th grade. A ciggy was being passed around and I stepped up to the plate. Put the fag to my lips like it was no big whoop and took the hugest drag. At this point my only experience with inhalables was with pot and I knew from that scene that the bigger the hit, the better the ride. I quickly learned that this concept was not universal and exploded in a fit of coughing and gagging and hacking. So cool.
The next time I remember smoking was sometime in college. Even though two of my best friends were chain smokers, I never really had the inclination to join them. But, I was at a concert once with my boyfriend Dave and suddenly had the crazy urge to smoke. We bummed a marlboro red from someone in the crowd and I puffed away. That is until I became light headed and nauseated and faint. Again with the coolness.
So given my apparent inability to handle my smoke, why do I mourn the dearth of cigarettes in my life? I think it is because pretty much everyone I have loved and laughed with since the 90's has been a smoker. When there were smokes going around, there were also drinks, gossip and laughter. Memories of Lisa, (with her ridiculous habit that filled mason jars with nasty butt water), sitting on the fire escape, or the back porch of our house. In the dark, she would tell stories by the glow of the camel light. Memories of the drink club crew where I was the only non-smoker. Sitting outside in a little posse of comrades in cancer stick. The conversation never halting beneath the smoky haze. I admit, at times, I felt isolated by my inability to pick up the habit. Like an outsider, inside hanging with the children while the cool kids sneaked drags behind the garage. However, the smell of cigarettes makes me crazy nostalgic for those times, for those people. For the opportunity to breathe them in...their words, their energy, their second-hand smoke.