Every Time I Open My Mailbox I Find Out I’m Even Gayer Than I Thought I Was
Try as I might to put up a good front, my mailman knows better. My mailman sees everything, the dozen or so charities asking me to give them money like the Men’s Health Crisis to the almost completely bare boys wearing thongs and whatnot against their tan toned bodies on the covers of the underwear catalogs. Let’s just say that I’m sure by this point my mailman knows I’m gay from these various items and the red ribbon return address labels I use that I get from the charities looking for my money on all my outbound mail. But the other day something arrived in a small note card sized ecru envelope that would have gone unnoticed by everyone including my mailman and myself. It wasn’t until I opened this envelope that I realized something I guess I should have all ready known. Every time I open my mailbox I find out I’m even gayer than I thought I was – Don’t Get Me Started!
The note card had my name and address handwritten on it but I flipped over to the back of the envelope and it revealed what I had suspected, just one word appeared on the back of the envelope in a font that I recognized immediately, “NORDSTROM” was all it said and yet somehow I knew at once exactly who it was from, Nordstrom of course but I had a suspicion that it was from someone in the men’s fragrance department. You see, I had spent one long afternoon in this department sniffing this and that, all complete with two salespeople helping me shoving coffee beans under my nose between sniffs to clear my palate or whatever it is that needs to be cleared when you’re smelling colognes. I have very specific ideas when it comes to how I want to smell and more importantly I realize that every scent smells different on different people due to your own body chemistry. Add all of this together and you find that I am a bit high maintenance in this department and therefore I spent at least an hour one day with everyone in the department trying to talk me into the latest or the classic scent that would become my smell to the face of the world around me. It was exhausting and at the same time stupid, I knew it was stupid to agonize over colognes but there I was trying to smell the citrus high that became more woodsy as the sandalwood under tones began to take over until finally it had settled into what it might really smell like on me once it found it’s true voice on my wrist according to the scent sales professionals.
I was right, the card contained an invitation to a “Fragrance Event.” Now I’ve been invited to fundraisers, I’ve been invited to get a low annual rate credit card but this was the first time I was invited to a fragrance event. A men’s fragrance event. Could there be anything gayer than this? I tried and tried to think of something gayer in my mind. Surely there were things, like… I don’t know, a butt plug event at a sex shop or something like that but a fragrance event for men has to be right up there doesn’t it? I wondered how they still did things like this with the down economy (then I read they were charging $10 for entry which would go toward your purchase). I mean are there people who are still willing to spend $300 for a small bottle of something that wears off a few hours after you put it on revealing you for your true scent you’re trying to cover up? And don’t we attract people with our own personal pheromones so shouldn’t we be trying to just enhance our own God given stink instead of letting people like Gucci to Sean John decide what we should smell like?
I like to smell clean. You know, like a good bar of soap, really. Not the smell of Mennen Speed Stick that every boy in high school smelled of during my high school days or me who reeked of Aramis the original scent of the gay man, moving onto exotic smells such as Drakkar, classic Calvin Klein scents and eventually in my forties settling on what I’m currently wearing, Hermes. Truly I know a lot about men’s cologne, probably more than I should but still, do I want to go to a party for a bunch of bottles on a shelf in a department store? A normal person probably would have just thrown the invite in the trash but I have to admit that I put it on a pile on my desk wondering if at some point I might not RSVP and/or attend. Most likely it will end up in the trash but for now it’s just a reminder to me that every time I open my mailbox I find out I’m even gayer than I thought I was – Don’t Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com
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