From the Archives
- September 22nd, 2009
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I’ve a folder named Misc on my pc where I stash things that don’t quite fit anywhere else. In it I discovered a few vintage pre-blog typings. This one is probably circa 2004. It’s one of those arb ‘eh?’ pieces.
ShareToday’s random regurgitation-
Bad BO-yfriend…………I once went out with a guy who had really bad BO. The thing was I didn’t quite catch on until summer banged into us. In the Autumn and Winter, I’d catch the occasional whiff but I put it down to natural biology and it was nothing that violently assaulted my senses. The fact that I suffer with sinuses and an almost continuously blocked nose probably assisted with my scented delusion.
But when temperatures soared to 30+ even my perpetual snotkop could not hide the truth any longer. The boy smelled bad. My friends brought it to my serious attention initially and I didn’t want to believe them but something told me that it was all so very true.
I confronted him with it and he denied it flatly. He used deodorant he said, it could never be him, and that perhaps I was the smelly offender? I found myself sniffing my own pits thinking he was right, but all I got was the smell of my Dove roll-on and nothing else remotely offensive.
I had obviously touched a nerve and things soured between us (and not just the air around his pits). He became distant and would answer my questions coolly and offhand. And all the while, it was like he was revelling in his utter smelliness. He couldn’t have been blissfully unaware, even his best friend told him about it, but he blatantly ignored all our advices and good intentions. Things just couldn’t go on like that. I ended it.
In retrospect, I find myself asking if I was unfair. Was I, gasp, shallow? Apart from the Pepe le Peuw impersonations, he really was a fun guy. Was the fact that I could not go out with a guy whose scent was distinctly medieval -even though he was otherwise perfect- evidence of me having all the depth of a pool of doggie piddle on the roadside?
But really, it’s one thing for a man to be all sweaty and smell of his masculinity, and quite another altogether when it smelled like something had died on him and he was being too cheap to spring for the burial.
He’s got a new girlfriend. She’s obviously made of stronger, more tolerant stuff or maybe she silently suffers. Or perhaps, she just genuinely likes him and won’t let something like his brutal BO stand in the way of their love. Whatever, everyone deserves their quota of happiness, even the fragrantly challenged.
