I never wanted to do this in writing, but I don't know how else to tell you how I really feel. We've had a great run, really, haven't we? All those beautiful dinners, those late nights falling out of bars, tucked in some corner of a pub, dancing on podiums in gay bars. Ah, the memories.

I don't think two people could have been happier together, but the truth is: we just can't go on. Not without cigarettes. Because, really, what's the point? We'd just be living a lie.

Please, no arguments. Don't tell me how it will benefit my health, and my clothes won't smell anymore, and chivalry will be reborn as men offer shivering underdressed ladies their jackets outside the bar. I've been there before. I've tried to make it work, but alcohol without out the sharp bite of nicotine, without the hazy cloud of smoke polluting the bar, well, it might as well be juice.