New York Times Modern Love: Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

"I'd never date a smoker," she said, "much less marry one."

And off we go on a rolling start to Hyla Sabesin Finn's piece on being married to a smoker. You might wonder how a writer could squeeze 1700 words out of this particular topic, but in the end it's an easy narrative: her husband lies as often as he lights up, apparently.

It would have been folly for Hyla to try to enumerate each instance of a falsehood or broken promise on behalf of Larry, but I counted in this essay no less than eight egregious incidents where Larry did not keep his word. Most men don't get past three. The ones that do tend to go on forever lying, which is why it's remarkable that the essay ends with him finally living up to his commitments.

Then again, these aren't ordinary lies. He's just trying to kick a bad habit, and earnestly. Which begs the question, why is Hyla so dramatic about it? She essentially asks the same thing herself:

The truth is that Larry was completely supportive. When I wanted to move closer to my parents, he agreed. When I wanted to start a business, he said, "Go for it." And what about those extra 19 pounds back when I had them? He never noticed. Why couldn't I accept him as he accepted me, flaws and all?

The confict here is that Hyla herself knows that she's nitpicking - that perhaps she's making a mountain out of a molehill. After all, although smoking can be an obnoxious habit, Larry is generally on his best behavior. Sure, it would be preferrable for him to quit entirely, but as the essay goes on you wonder how Larry's sneaking around has any impact on Hyla other than on her own neurosis.

The funny thing about the end of the essay is that Hyla quits herself ("the nagging", she states) but in the end no longer has this nag to drag around, as Larry finally quit smoking successfully. Do we get to judge Hyla, now, for keeping her own promise? Of course not; she's the author! She's not going to admit that nagging itself was so addictive that now, perhaps, she's moved onto Larry's inside-out socks in the laundry as her new nag target. Maybe Larry can provide a rebuttal in a future column! "I stopped smoking, she didn't stop complaining."

(Larry, that's what happens when you chase underage tail in college. You get a nag. Meat Loaf wrote a song about it. It's cheesy, but true.)

Moving away from these two individuals, this essay is framed by a larger discussion about the role of smoking in relationships and society. It is depicted as a social scourge, which is only half the story. What Hyla won't tell you - actually, she scorns the concept when she catches Larry "huddling pathetically with a puffing posse" - is that smoking is considered a social habit by those who partake in it. Now that society at large has scorned smoking as a disgusting and intolerable habit, smokers bond even more tightly together over their shared indulgence while the rest of society struggles with detachment problems. For every girl like Hyla who is grossed out by guys smoking outside the bar, there's another pack-a-day girl who's looking to talk to cute guys in the smoking circle. It's not a valid reason to deteriorate your own health, but it certainly invalidates the argument that smoking is truly unacceptable behavior. Only some people find it that repulsive.

Although our author is conflicted, it's merely because she ponders her inability to compromise as the counterpoint to her disgust of the habit itself. So, here we have another self-aggrandizing tale where the author never takes a step back to try to reach an understanding of another person's approach to life and relationships. In the scope of this essay, Hyla's obsession with Larry's smoking eventually overreaches any pragmatic issues that might come of his habit. Had she been less stubborn and closed-minded, Larry wouldn't have needed to break promises - and, with better support from Hyla, he might have successfully quit earlier, too.

Ah well, par for the course.