I am like a blood hound. I have an extraordinarily keen sense of smell. Sometimes this is awesome, like a super power. I can tell when I walk into the kitchen if the stove has been left on. I can tell when it’s going to rain or snow. I know precisely the moment to start nagging Jay about cleaning out Squeaks Sinatra’s cage (yeah, that’s our rat). I’m pretty sure the teenage version of Micah will NEVER be able to smoke behind my back.
I’m pretty sensitive to odors, which explains my loyalty to certain perfumes, despite the fact that I have dozens (age 12- 16: Navy – it seemed pretty fancy for $8 a bottle!, age 17-21: TommyGirl, age 21-28: Clinique Happy, age 29 – present: DKNY Be Delicious). Some smells, to me, are awful – play doh, sweet little ladies wearing vanilla musk perfume, anything with cocoa butter, Jay’s Toms (okay, my Toms too. Seriously, they’re terrible. I am responsible for giving multiple less fortunate children around the world incredibly smelly feet). Some smells, to me, are magnificent. Fresh cut grass, my little boy fresh out of the tub, cupcakes, oranges.
One thing, in particular, has the ability to make my nose swoon – Jay. He can smell amazing. In fact, this was one of the first things I noticed about him. Even as a teenager, he could drive my olfactory sense bonkers. There’s just something about wrapping up in his arms and nuzzling in his neck. Fantastic.
So, why, does a man who smells so good get so much joy out of smelling bad?
When we first started dating, Jay was on his best behavior, which, when you think about it, is false advertising. I had no idea that my Romeo was so… gassy.
So, weird fact about Jay #6 – He can be a stinker, and he thinks it’s hilarious!
Perhaps this isn’t really a weird fact about Jay. Perhaps it’s true of all men. I remember once when Jay and I were dating, we were working out, and I, his demure, lovely southern (debatable) girl, let out a teeny, tiny toot (we don’t say the f-word). It wasn’t just in front of Jay. It was in front of his parents too! I was humiliated. I immediately got up, went to the bathroom, and started brushing my hair! I’ve always been this way. Very private with my bathroom activities (aside from the fact that I blog about it!). Unlike my husband, who likes to “mark his territory” wherever we go, I am willing to go to great lengths to make sure I’m home to do all necessary business. I hate public bathrooms! Once, four hours into a 16 hour road trip, a light stomach bug hit, and I nearly convinced Jay to pay for a cheap hotel just so I could have a few moments of much needed… ahem… alone time.
Jay is nothing like this. He could care less when or where. When the mood hits, he gives in. And he never seems to be embarrassed by the… evidence. Sometimes, he seems proud! When I curl my nose, bury my face, or even gag… he laughs! His kid thinks it’s pretty funny too.
When I first discovered how mismatched our superpowers were – my super smell, his super stink, I tried to train him. I had a good little sit-down with him in the late 90’s. It went a little something like this –
Me: Honey, I love you, but…
Jay (interrupting): And I love you, my darling. You are lovely. Angelic. More than I could have ever hoped for. And also very pretty.
Me: Yes, yes, I know, but as I was saying, Honey, I love you, but dude, you are stinking up my house.
Jay: I see the error of my ways, beloved. What can I do to better please you?
Me: I’m not asking for much. When you feel a toot coming on, just go to the bathroom.
Jay: As you wish.
And we lived happily ever after….
Or, the next time I was in the bathroom getting ready, Jay ran by, stuck his booty through the door way, stink-bombed me, shut me in, and yelled through the door as I was gasping for breath, “How’s that, baby? Better?”