When my father was a young man, he and a brother stole a pack of cigarettes. They took them into the yard, hid behind a bush, and lit up. Their mother caught them. She asked, "You want to smoke?" The question hung in the air for a second, then she said, "Well then, you'll smoke." She then supervised as they finished off the entire pack.
Needless to say, these two young men never became smokers.
(They later asked their mother how she had found them out. Her answer: "There was only one bush in the yard with a cloud of smoke over it....")
When I was about twelve years old, I found a pack of Marlboro light 100's. I kept it for a few days, contemplating my options. Finally, I took them to my father. I told him I wanted to try them and see what it was like. (Realize - this all happened in a faithful Mormon family.) He found me a pack of matches and directed me to the back yard.
A few minutes later, green faced and convinced of the evil of cigarettes, my father told me his story. He knew enough to tell me to "Go For It" knowing what the result would be.
Not a smoker. Never will be.