Yes, Carol, quitting is definitely a loving act for others as well as for yourself.

I never realized, during at least the first 12 or 13 years I smoked, just how annyoing the smoke was to non-smokers.* I tried to be considerate and would not light up without asking permission -- except where "everyone else was." And in the '60s and early '70s, there were folks lighting up nearly everywhere -- even in college classrooms at some Universities where I taught. Restaurants, grocery stores, department stores, offices, bars, parties, just about any public place except at the library or in church, were full of smoke.

It was not until the mid '70s that nonsmokers began to be more assertive (as more and more smokers were quitting). This made it A LOT EASIER for me to quit and stay quit. I'd be the ONLY one smoking in a faculty meeting, some colleagues giving me dirty looks. So when I became a non-smoker there was an increasingly heavy burden of social disapproval lifted from my shoulders.

Now that I see my still-addicted friends having to go stand outside in the cold to get their nicotine fix in January or smoke in a "smokers room" thick with smoke, I am extra glad that I broke the habit before it got that bad.

But I wonder how many opportunities (e.g., for business, romance, or recreation) I may have missed in my 20s and early 30s because I smelled like an ashtray, exposed others to second-hand smoke, and couldn't sit through a 2 1/2-hour movie without having a nicotine fit.

You said you were a moderate smoker, Day-liah, and that may mean you'll need stronger resolve to stay smoke-free. For me, the strongest motivational aid was that I hated being a slave. Another was that the nicotine "master" was alienating me from others.

Again, keep on non smoking, Day-liah. (Maybe Spaw will lend you Cleigh O'Possum as a pacifier for a while.)

Genie