Hell, didn't realize till I went to quit (again of course) and it's been damn close to eight years that I've been stuffing my face with this nasty stuff. I started as a freshman in college. It was cool, it helped me fit into my fraternity. It gave me something to do while I was studying. It gave me friends to dip with. It gave me an identity. I was no longer just "that dude" I was "that dude that dips" and I thought that was cool.
I started out with pouches. Girly flavored pouches. I'd put one in every few days on my way to class, or as I was studying. Then one day they were out of my beloved Skoal Peach pouches at the corner mart (I know, take my man card now for ever dipping skoal peach, take my intelligence card for ever dipping at all) so I bought a can of long cut peach. It didn't catch on at first, I went back to pouches, but as my addiction grew, pouches just weren't cutting it. I slowly transitioned over to the real deal, and at the recommendation of my freshman dorm roommate, made the move from Skoal to the good ole welfare bear Grizzly.
I truly enjoyed dipping in college, it gave me friends, something to do, but I always said I'd quit once I either found a girl I loved, or graduated college. Both those things happened (at about the same time) but here I was 4 years later, still packing nice big pinches of worm dirt every day.
Thing is, I never once told my now fiance I dipped. She found a can on me a couple times, but it was never to her knowledge that it was a habit. We met senior year of college. I'd dip at the fraternity house, with my buds, but never around her or my family.
Four years now, I've snuck dips on my way to work, on my way home, when she's asleep, heck even in the bathroom of the office.
I hate this shit. I hate what it's done to me. I hate lying to someone I love. I'm done with dip. This time is for real.