12:51PM - Monday January 5, 2003
Smell Freak
Okay, I have an admission to make. I am a smell freak. I love the way my friends smell, the way my apartment smells, the way my favourite stores smell... Smells are very evocative for me. A bad smell can ruin my day, make me unhappy, make me not like a new person. Then again, I also seem to like smells that other people find offensive, or at least not notice them as much.

For instance, I like the way CurveGirl smells, even if she's been in the studio for three days without bathing. She just smells more like her. I like my smell the same way. Maybe we're just dirty girls, but we've been known to wear our studio jeans so long that frankly, they'd stand up on their own. Sometimes I think they're on the verge of developing sentience. We figure once we can smell ourselves, it's time to wash. But I think we always smell good.

Last semester, my first bellydance class of the week, the very first class a couple of women came up to me to ask me to say something to another woman about her b.o. I didn't even notice it, and I had to correct her several times over the course of the class because she was kind of spazzy. They said her smell nearly made them throw up, that she was ruining their enjoyment of the class. I hadn't even noticed. People sweat. It's what happens when they move. I never smelled anything bad from that woman.

It all made me a little self-conscious: maybe I smell bad to other people? I don't know. CurveGirl says I always smell good, too, and I believe her. She put in my labia rings and everything for me after my operation and I hadn't had a shower in a few days and she loved the way I smelled.

The fact of the matter is, I prefer the smell of good honest sweat and come and pussy juice over most anything else. Which brings us to the funny story...

I was talking with CSB on ICQ last night after he'd gotten home all safe on the bus and stuff. I'd been smelling him all weekend, whenever I could, because I love the way he smells. When he came in the door before I even kissed him, I hugged him and smelled his neck. He teased me later on and called me a sensualist, and I had to agree. I make love with every sense I can bring to the table. Hell, I live life that way. It's good to be a Taurus.

Anyway, I confessed to him over ICQ that I missed the way he smelled already. And that after the Witch's Ball I hadn't washed the white shirt he'd borrowed for his costume because I wanted to be able to smell him and remember how much fun I had had for a while. We'd already discovered that he'd left his watch behind on my desk, and he said that he didn't think he'd had it long enough to hold his scent. Also that he didn't think he'd left behind any clothes for me. Now, what did I find when I went to bed last night?

A belt and a workshirt waiting for me on my bedroom floor. Hee! I tucked the belt on my desk with the watch and, uh, took the shirt to bed with me.

Yes, I am a freak. But damn, he smells so good.

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