I started smoking to be cool. I hung out with punks, goths, and drama kids in high school, and a lot of them smoked. I knew it was a bad move, but I also figured I'd have more strength of character / willpower than my parents (both smokers since way back; dad ended up with cancer), and have no trouble quitting, because of course as a teenager I was invincible and awesome, right?
12 years later, I've lost count of how many times I've tried and failed to quit. Right now I'm five days into quitting cold turkey. I'm gonna make it this time, dammit! I wanna be able to say I quit before I turned 30, and that's only a few weeks away. The physical addiction is nothing compared to the psychological side of it. Almost all my routines involve cigarettes, and a good half of my friends are gonna be annoyed with me, but it's been too damn long and they cost too much fucking money and arrrrrrrrrgh..
But yeah, I started smoking to be cool. I was already pretty cool, though. I guess I just wanted a +1 modifier or something. It wasn't worth it.