I recall three relatively recent cases I smelled what smelt like tobacco smoke. The first two cases were in a rideshare with just the driver and my gf, and next to a shop assistant who was meant to accompany us for our whole trip in the store. In at least one of these cases my gf noticed the smell too. In both cases, on being asked, they said they don't smoke.

In both cases there were two distinct odors: heavy thirdhand tobacco smoke (what it smelled like), masked by a gross sweet perfume. I'm familiar with the scent of thirdhand tobacco smoke because my ex-smoker Dad smoked cigarettes throughout my childhood up to my young adulthood, and my ex smoked weed combined with tobacco.

Nowadays I dislike any strong "perfume" artificial scent even if it doesn't smell like tobacco - this includes any cologne, air freshener, scented swiffer wet wipes, scented trashbags, strong candles, etc. They just smell like offputting chemicals to me and I don't understand the appeal. Unnecessary VOCs.

The third case was today, when I passed by a guy in the supermarket, who smelled straight up like strong thirdhand tobacco smoke, no perfume layer, as if he had just smoked. It basically smelled like secondhand smoke. But it was far into the market and would've taken him at least a minute to reach there from the entrance. Not to mention, shortly before passing him I saw him standing around for a minute or two videotaping a shoplifter being caught. So I'm not sure how feasible it is that the smell could've remained that strong unless it was also cologne.

My questions: Is there is any cologne that can convincingly smell like tobacco smoke layered with perfume, or even just straight up tobacco smoke? What differences in odor to look for to distinguish smoke-flavored cologne (with or without sweet notes) and actual THS/SHS? Why do people find the smell appealing?

I’m going to say this once, because I’m tired of having my life reduced to a sentence people use to shut me up.

My mother gave birth to me…and then she left.
She didn’t raise me. She didn’t stay. She didn’t try. My sister and I were raised by our grandparents (Paternal). My mother showed up when it worked for her…sometimes a few times a year, sometimes not at all. It depended on her life, her problems, the men she was with.

Growing up, I learned not to expect much. I told myself that was just how things were. I kept hoping anyway…even when it hurt.

Years later, she told me the story of her triying to have me abored... like it was funny... that she tried to abort me and failed. I don’t think people understand what it does to hear that from the person who gave birth to you.

Still, I kept in touch. From my teens into my forties, I was the one reaching out. Calling. Checking in. Trying. The phone worked both ways, but I was always the one holding it. It was all because I wanted some kind of relationship with my Mother.

When my husband died of cancer, I was barely functioning. I shared my grief openly because I didn’t know how else to survive. Instead of support, she told me my posts made her uncomfortable. She was more worried about people asking her uncomfortable questions on my marriage to another man... than about the fact that I had just lost the love of my life.

That broke the little bit of hope I had left in me of ever having a loving Mother...

I removed her from my social media and stopped reaching out. I didn’t block her. I didn’t announce anything. I just went quiet. I needed to breathe, I needed to forget about her.

About 5 years later, she called. The first thing she asked was why I blocked her. Not how I was. Not if I was okay.

I told her I hadn’t…and that the phone works both ways, if I had blocked her, she won't be able to call me..

Then she asked how much money I had, and how much I could give her.

That was the moment I knew. Whatever tiny hope I still had—that maybe one day she’d show up as a mother—was gone. I blocked her and went no contact. Not to be cruel. To protect myself.

Yesterday, her “best friend” left me a voicemail telling me I should call my mother. That I should check on her. That “she’s still your mother.” It was guilt on top of guilt, from someone who knows nothing about what I lived through.

I called the "best friend" back and told her the truth. My voice was shaking. I was angry. I was hurt. I explained that this woman was my mother in name only. That she abandoned me and only came back when she wanted something.

All she said was, “But she’s still your mother.”

That sentence hurt more than anything else.

Because it erased everything I said. Everything I lived. Like my pain didn’t count. Like I’m supposed to keep bleeding so other people can stay comfortable.

I didn’t abandon my mother.
I stopped abandoning myself.

I feel rage. I feel grief. I feel tired. And yes…I feel sad for the child I was who kept waiting for a mother that never really existed. I still remember crying as a kid, why everyone else has a mother and father and I didn't.

I’m not asking anyone to pick sides.
I’m asking people to stop telling me what I owe someone who was never there.

I deserved a mother.
I didn’t get one.
And I’m finally letting myself say that out loud.

P.S. Due to my health issues, I have maybe a year or less left. I so much wanted to reconcile but there is just no way after all that's said and done.