The letter request:
Here is the situation. A lovely woman at my work has tried to set me up with a colleague of her friend. She told me he was a smoker and wanted to know if that was okay. I wasn’t really thinking and said ‘Sure, I’ll give it a go’. Said person (Rob) then emailed me. On the day he emailed me, a new friend from the sailing club died of lung cancer. A compelling reason to not date a smoker. Can you help with a reply for me to send Rob?
I have something to confess. I’m a morning person. I literally bounce out of bed every single day. Bounce, I tell ya. I arrive at work at an hour when most other people are hitting snooze for the first of 25 times. I’m friendly with crisp air, shadowy moons that linger over early daylight and the peach glow of sunrise on inner city windows.
When our mutual friend suggested we go on a blind date I’m not sure whether she mentioned any of this to you but she should have… Maybe you’re more of a night-time person. Maybe you come alive after 10pm and greet mornings by stuffing your face into a pillow and calling the sun a bitch. Nothing wrong with that; we’ve all got our quirks and habits.
Speaking of which. In her matchmaking spiel, my friend did happen to mention that you are a smoker. She even queried, Would this be a problem? To which I replied, No, no problem at all. But the thing is I’ve since realised that I was pretending to be more laidback than I actually am. See, I’m one of those non-smokers: the particularly anti kind. I’ve lost friends to lung cancer, I applaud scary images on cigarette packets and I give smokers dirty looks. I’m open to blind dates and I hope one eventuates into the love of my life but I’ve thought about this long and hard and have come to the conclusion that it would be too hard for me to give smouldering, romantic, first-date eyes while my face is really trying to say, Did you seriously just light that shit-stick?
So Rob, I can’t go on a date with you and I’m terribly sorry for dicking you around. I wish you all the best!