Did I Get A Good Deal?

I recently did what any emotionally stable adult does not do and went on an unhinged Opus X buying spree, which is basically the cigar equivalent of adopting exotic animals because they’re “beautiful” and “rare” and “definitely won’t ruin my life.” This all started, as it always does, with Arturo Fuente whispering sweet nothings like "limited, anniversary, and you deserve this."

First is the Opus X 25th Anniversary Tributo. Full box, 25 cigars, $1,228.95 — or $49.15 per stick. The name Tributo is perfect, because each cigar feels like a ceremonial offering I make before lighting it, hoping the cigar gods forgive my past financial sins. These aren’t cigars you casually smoke. These are cigars you apologize to before cutting. I didn’t buy a box — I funded a small Dominican chapel.

Then things escalated with the Opus X Angel’s Share Robusto. Full box of 29 for $787.45, or $27.15 each. Seriously I have never seen them before and had no idea what I was actually buying. Angel’s Share is traditionally the portion lost to evaporation during aging. In my case, it’s the portion of my paycheck that mysteriously disappears every time Fuente releases something shiny. I like to imagine angels leaning over my humidor going, “Hey… weren’t those supposed to be ours?”

Just when sanity was waving from the roadside, I dove headfirst into a Love Affair. Literally. Sixteen Opus X Love Affair cigars for $315.76, or $19.73 each. Love Affair is the most honest cigar name ever printed. These cigars don’t want to be smoked occasionally. They want commitment. Monogamy. They want you to stop looking at other brands and delete your Tinder account. Every time I smoke one, the rest of my humidor looks like it’s been emotionally ghosted.

And because I clearly believe in finishing what I start (badly), I’m also about to acquire a full 50-count box of Partagas Signature Series 150 "A"s, from the Cullman Brothers / General Cigar / Scandinavian Tobacco Group. The 150s — cigars so controversial they don’t come with tasting notes, they come with arguments. Nobody agrees on the flavor, the value, or whether they’re transcendent or insane… which, naturally, makes me want them even more.

At this point, I’m not collecting cigars — I’m assembling a psychological profile. So tell me straight: did I get a great deal, a fair deal, or should my credit card be placed in witness protection? Either way, I regret nothing, I have zero plans to stop, and I accept that Opus X and Partagas 150s are no longer cigars to me — they’re a lifestyle choice I didn’t fully discuss with my bank.

Full disclosure: yes, I used ChatGPT to help write this, because at the moment the only thing responding to me reliably is an AI and my humidor. Women are apparently on backorder, my dating life is in a prolonged supply-chain crisis, and my depression is running at full MSRP. So while I’m not getting laid, I am getting Opus X—and frankly, they never cancel plans, never ghost, and always show up beautifully wrapped and ready to make me feel something. If this post sounds unusually articulate, thank the robot. If it sounds like a man filling an emotional void with premium tobacco… congratulations, you’ve met me.