Over the weekend, I was debating with one of my sons about a software engineering topic, and I caught myself right on the edge of saying something that would’ve implied he didn’t have enough years in the field to have an opinion. Thankfully, I shut my mouth in time. I realized I was about to drift straight into gatekeeper mode — and once I actually listened, what he had to say was sharp and insightful.
And cigars are full of those little moments. Every hobby has its quirks, but cigar culture has a special talent for turning personal habits into friendly “suggestions” that sometimes sound more official than they are. You’ll hear someone casually mention how long you should smoke before having an opinion, or talk about retrohaling like it’s a graduation requirement, or offer humidity advice with the confidence of a seasoned engineer. It’s rarely serious — just the culture’s way of sharing what works for them, sometimes a little too enthusiastically. And honestly, looking at those quirks gave me a good laugh, because I’ve been guilty of more than a few myself.
So, in the spirit of calling out the quirks we all fall into, here’s a light‑hearted look at gatekeeping in the cigar world. And to make sure I’m not pretending I’m above any of this, each section includes my own run‑ins with the same behavior.
1. “I Found My Way… So Clearly It’s The Way”
Every cigar lounge and online forum has this moment: someone discovers a perfect cut, a perfect humidity level, or a perfect lighting ritual, and suddenly it becomes a public service announcement. It’s not bossiness — it’s enthusiasm dressed up as universal truth. They’re just excited they solved a problem and want to save everyone else from ever having a suboptimal puff again.
I always smile when I see long debates about V‑cuts, with people piling on with the Mandalorian “This is the way” comment. It’s all good‑natured — just smokers sharing what works for them with the confidence of someone who’s finally cracked a code. Everyone has their preference. I punch‑cut everything except torpedoes. I straight‑cut those. That’s my way. Not the way.
2. “Come Back When Your Palate Has a Driver’s License”
Experience matters, sure, but sometimes we treat it like a punch card that needs to be filled before opinions are valid. A newer smoker shares a thought, and someone gently reminds them that “it takes time.” It’s well‑intentioned, but it can sound like cigars require a learner’s permit.
I had to include this one because I’ve absolutely played the “I’ve smoked cigars for over thirty years” card more than once. It’s a reflex — the kind you don’t notice until the words are already halfway out of your mouth. But what really counts in cigars (and in life, honestly) is reps. Someone who’s been smoking for three or four years but lights up one or two sticks a day probably has far more practical experience than someone who’s been at it twenty years but only smokes once a month. Time is a factor, sure, but frequency is the real teacher.
3. “Congratulations, You’ve Unlocked the Retrohale Badge”
Retrohaling is optional, but you wouldn’t always know it from the way people talk about it. It gets presented like a milestone achievement — the moment you “really start tasting cigars.” It’s all in good fun, but the way it’s framed sometimes feels like you should get a certificate to hang on the wall.
Personally, I don’t retrohale. It really fucks up my sinuses. And believe me, I’ve tried the 10% method and every other gentle‑on‑the‑nose technique people swear by. Still no dice. But I get a kick out of hearing folks talk about retrohaling as if it’s a rite of passage. It’s charming in its own way — the enthusiasm, the conviction, the sense that you’ve unlocked a new level of cigar appreciation. I just happen to enjoy my cigars without sending smoke through my nose.
4. “Let Me Tell You About My Humidor Setup… All of It”
Humidity advice comes out with the confidence of someone explaining how to rebuild an engine. People love sharing their setup — the percentages, the airflow, the cedar, the seasoning method. It’s charming, really. A humidor is a little workshop, and everyone’s proud of theirs.
In the early days of writing my diary, I started drafting a deep‑dive article on proper cigar storage. I was three‑quarters of the way through it when it hit me: what I do works for me because of my environment and the climate I live in. That’s it. That’s the whole secret. I scrapped the article because I realized I’d be talking out of my ass if I pretended my setup was some universal blueprint. My humidor works in my house — not necessarily yours. And the bottom line for me is this: Boveda packs are a godsend!
5. “Hold On, Don’t Tap That Ash Yet”
My original subtitle for this was “Hold On, Don’t Tap That Yet.” I almost published it unchanged, but… yeah. That could read a little differently than intended.
Some folks treat ash length like a personal challenge. They’ll encourage you to let it ride, admire the structure, maybe even angle your cigar just right so it stays intact to get that stack of nickels or dimes. It’s harmless enthusiasm — the same energy as someone balancing a spoon on their nose — but it can make you feel like tapping your ash is breaking some unspoken rule.
Me? I’ve got too many holes in my clothing to play that game anymore. I tap early and often. My shirts and pants thank me. And the back of my neck is a helluva lot looser.
A friend of mine told me a story about smoking with a group of older guys. One of them chuckled and said, “Yeah, you must be a new smoker.” He asked why, and the guy pointed at his clean shirt: “No holes.” He’d been smoking for over ten years, but after he burned one of his nicest shirts — which pissed him off — he started ashing regularly. Lesson learned.
6. “Relax Exactly Like This”
Cigars are supposed to be the ultimate unwind, yet somehow the hobby collects best practices like it’s a competitive sport. How to cut, how to light, how long to wait between puffs — all offered with the tone of someone sharing a favorite shortcut, not enforcing a rulebook. Still, it’s funny how many “right ways” there are to relax.
I’ve fallen into this one more times than I can count. Not because I think there is a right way, but because cigars are one of those hobbies where you pick up little tricks over the years and get excited to share them. It’s easy to forget that what works perfectly for me might not translate for someone else. Half the fun of cigars is figuring out your own rhythm — not following someone else’s playbook.
7. “We Can All Taste the Same Thing… Right?”
Flavor notes are personal, but sometimes the group instinct is to sync up like a tasting choir. Someone says they’re getting cocoa, and suddenly everyone wants to help you find the cocoa too. It’s not correction — it’s a friendly attempt to get everyone on the same page, even if your palate is reading a different book.
I gave a friend a Definition The Equalizer once and told him, “Man, this is like smoking a chocolate milkshake.” That got him really excited. A couple of weeks later, I asked how he liked it. He said he loved it — but for him, it was way more coffee than chocolate. More mocha than milkshake. Same cigar, same blend… completely different read. And that’s the fun of it. Your palate isn’t supposed to match mine; it’s supposed to tell your story.
8. “And Now, a Brief Lecture I Didn’t Know I Was Giving”
Every so often, someone starts explaining cigars with a little extra enthusiasm, and before they know it, they’re narrating a documentary. It’s harmless — just what happens when passion gets ahead of self‑awareness. We’ve all done it, usually without realizing we’ve slipped into “voiceover mode.”
This is something I keep a close eye on now, especially as my diary is gaining a little momentum. It’s so easy to start bloviating about the finer points of cigars, to drift from sharing an experience into delivering a lecture. The reminder I keep giving myself is simple: I’m doing this for FUN. If I’m not enjoying the writing, the smoking, or the conversation, then I’m missing the whole point.
9. “I Knew That Brand Before It Was Cool”
Every hobby has a little hipster energy, and cigars are no exception. Someone mentions a boutique brand, and suddenly you hear, “Oh yeah, I was smoking them way back when they only had one roller and a folding table.” It’s not bragging — it’s just the cigar version of sharing a favorite band before they hit the radio.
I haven’t done this with cigars, but I was absolutely guilty of it with guitars back when I was actively writing GuitarGear.org. Once, I was in a discussion with other media folks, and we were talking about a luthier who’d been independent for years before ending up in the Gibson Custom Shop. I dropped his name like I was some kind of entitled fool, expecting nods of recognition. Instead, I got blank stares. That was my lesson in how easy it is to slip into “I knew them before they were cool” mode without even realizing it.
10. “I Know a Guy Who Knows a Guy”
…usually accompanied by a conspiratorial wink. Every now and then, someone drops a line that sounds like insider intel — “My buddy talked to a rep who talked to a guy at the factory…” It’s never meant to impress; it’s just the cigar world’s version of storytelling. Half fact, half folklore, all delivered with the charm of someone letting you in on a secret that may or may not actually exist.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard a variation of that line about Cuban cigars. My buddy pulled it on me a couple of weeks ago when he told me where he gets his Cubans. I couldn’t resist: “Dude. Really? You know a guy who knows a guy?” We both cracked up. Turns out he actually did know the guy — he’d been buying from him for years — but the delivery was still straight out of the cigar‑culture playbook.
The most important thing I’ve learned about this hobby is simply this: laugh at myself. If I don’t, I start believing my own nonsense. Cigars come with just enough rituals and opinions that it’s dangerously easy to slip into sounding like a part‑time professor of Leaf Studies. One minute I’m relaxing, the next I’m halfway through a monologue about burn rates like anyone asked.
Laughing at myself keeps me honest. It reminds me that I’m just a guy enjoying a cigar, not delivering a keynote. It keeps the hobby light, keeps the writing fun, and keeps me from drifting into that “let me explain the universe to you” tone that sneaks up on all of us. If I can’t poke fun at my own quirks — the overthinking, the enthusiasm, the occasional bullshit — then I’m taking a rolled‑up leaf way too seriously.
Discover more from Unco B's Stogie Diary
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
