It is the perfect way to cap off an experience, like at the finish of a good meal. It brings ritual to the day. I start a day with a cup of coffee and a cigarette and it's the last thing I do at the end of it, even if it means going outside to do so. In those moments, I have solitude, freedom, and celebration.

There are other words used to describe smokers, spoken by people who look scornfully at smokers huddled in doorways or grouped on sidewalks - yet they are the ones who have forced us outside.

And many smokers have found that we like it out here, on the sidewalk; away from the seemingly better, healthier, self-righteous non-smoking majority, who use the words: "addict," "habit," "dirty," "disgusting," and fling them at us the way we fling ashes.

"Why don't you just quit?" or "Your clothes smell disgusting," are a few of the phrases I've heard from supposedly well-meaning people offering unsolicited advice, saying that I'll feel better when I quit.

I don't offer advice to the fat guy online next to me who has filled up his cart with frozen pizza, potato chips, and soda. I don't say, "Hey buddy, you might want to get diet soda next time, you look like you're a bite or two away from a heart attack."

I don't say to the drunk girl online at the bathroom, "Hey honey, you might want to skip another Cosmo, you're a few sips away from regrettable sex and a hangover."

Yet, people think nothing of giving advice to smokers. We've become the whipping boy for unhealthy habits. Look at the late-night commercials campaigning to get people to quit like the guy who talks out of a hole in his throat, the woman with missing fingers or the one that shows the doctors scraping fat out of the dead guy's arteries. Supposedly all smokers are walking around infected, only one puff away from a missing toe or death. No wonder people feel like they can shout insults at us or fake cough as they shudder past us on the sidewalk.

To all you would-be-therapists out there: I don't want to quit. I'd rather quit you and your unsolicited advice.

Now I know, smoking isn't good for you - even though each delicious inhale begs to differ - but is it really that bad? Particularly, if one were to smoke moderately.

I know what you're thinking, especially all you indignant, self-righteous, haters that I'll call "reformers." Most of you reformers think that someone who would willing put hot tobacco smoke laced with chemicals into their lungs certainly couldn't be capable of something like common sense.

And possibly the last thing you'd think of as a trait found in a smoker is moderation because you can't help but think of your great Uncle Al, who was a life-long smoker who chain smoked Pall Malls and had overflowing ashtrays throughout his apartment which stunk up the place. The smoke clung to the walls and eventually stained his curtains yellow. The kind of smoker that lights the tip of a new cigarette with the butt of the old.

You reformers think we're all alike. We're sometimes described as undisciplined, discourteous, and indulgent.

It is that very same kind of narrow-minded thinking that drew me to smoking in the first place. I didn't want to be the kind of person who would judge someone based on an annoying habit and I can think of several. For instance, who says it's okay to pick your teeth at the dinner table or blow your nose on a linen napkin at a restaurant? Yet seemingly that's acceptable behavior.

But try and light a cigarette at any restaurant nowadays and a waiter will practically run over and ask you to step outside while your dinner companion can blow snot all over a napkin that other people rub their mouths on!?! And people say smokers are disgusting?

But even I'll admit that not every cigarette tastes delicious, in fact, sometimes even I get disgusted by the way the smell lingers on the hands or in the mouth. But good hygiene can fix those issues. And even sometimes a stick of gum can fix a need to occupy myself in a smoke-free environment.

What gum can't fix is the way the desire for a cigarette and completion in the act of smoking has it's own beginning and ending. It is a perfect little respite from so many things. Smoking has a built in excuse to go outside. It's a reason to get out of awkward social situations. It is a bonding experience with fellow smokers and a constant companion.

But unfortunately, my love affair with smoking has reached the inevitable conclusion. I remember there were good smokes in the beginning, but now many leave me with the lingering stale aftertaste of regret. Too many smoky nights spent searching for that perfect smoke, the one that contained that first heady thrill.

Now I occupy my time with rationing my cigarettes. I count them out at the start of my day and count down as the day draws long - like a prisoner would, like a soldier does. Cause it is a war out there. A battle for sidewalk space. Smokers are kicked to the curb every day to make room for moms and power walkers. Even the homeless get more respect on the sidewalk. But I remain optimistic. There is still room on the street.