For some of us, there are certain things about the opposite sex that immediately turns us on. For instance, if I were a sea urchin, I would be at the mercy of any random sea urchin dude who swims by and shoots pheramones all up in my zone. Thankfully, I’m not a sea urchin. Rather, I am a human who is at the mercy of any random dude who passes by smelling of fresh laundry and campfires. Here’s the story.
Earlier tonight, while laying in bed after a long Saturday of doing nothing, I made the decision to change into my PJs (specifically, my favorite ancient bed shirt, circa late 1990s.) I then decided to burn a stick of incense. (My head began to spin from all of these late-night weekend decisions.)
I settled back into bed. A few minutes later, I began uncontrollably smelling my bedshirt. Wisk. One of a select group of laundry detergents that effectively carries the scent of fresh laundry in a most pleasing way. I felt happy. Why? After some deep thought, I understood.
The combination of the smell of fresh laundry and the campfire-y smell of incense brought me back to my summers as a pre-teen, hunting down cute boys to kiss in the playground at Normandy Farms Campground. My best friend Katie and I actually referred to it as “BH-ing,” or “Boy-Hunting” as it was called behind closed doors. The optimum goal was to find a “CK,” or a “Cute Kid.” We would then begin the process of courtship, which included asking the CK to slow-dance to Boys II Men, sitting on a big rock in the dark playground for a half an hour, and making the move/being on the receiving end of a “cookie dough ice cream” (a French kiss).
I remember my first cookie dough ice cream. The playground was closed and it was dark; so romantic. The smell of campfires lingered in the air. I was sitting on a bench next to the basketball court with a boy who was a good 6 inches shorter than me. We were shaded from peeping adolescents by a massive fir tree. He made the move, and with a liberal application of saliva, I received my very first cookie dough ice cream. It was magical.
And thus, the reason why I lose control when there’s a boy in the room who smells like fresh laundry and campfires. Or who is wearing a clean t-shirt while the smell of burning leaves floats through the window. Or who is on fire while holding a stack of clean t-shirts.