This year my wife and I celebrated our 15th Wedding Anniversary. She decided that for part of her gift, I should go back to that really expensive department store (all by myself) and get her that perfume that I told her would smell sexy on her. She said that way she could brag to her sister about how I bought the perfume for our anniversary all by myself and I got her the one that would smell sexy on her. So, I love my wife, and we have been married 15 years, so I thought I could go back and get that sexy smellin’ perfume.
There I was, all by myself, going into the mall. It took a lot of self- control to force myself to go in there. It took more self-discipline to bypass all the electronic gadget stores. But, I did have to stop for awhile and hang out on the benches with some husbands who were waiting for their wives. Finally, I worked up enough courage, took a deep breath and went in to that expensive department store. All my senses were alive, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck go up, and I kind of wished I would have dressed in my newer jeans and a cleaner shirt. (Maybe shaved, too.)
A nice looking young woman with about ten pounds of make-up on named Heather asked if she could help me. I think she thought I was lost and needed directions to the Snack Shack. She was giving me that same look all the popular girls in high school used to give me when I walked too close to their side of the hallway.
I told her I wanted to buy some perfume, but I wasn’t sure of the name, or brand, or style or anything. Her eyes kind of glazed over. She kept looking over her shoulder to see if anyone would rescue her, but of course they wouldn’t. They were all avoiding me. She asked me if it smelled flowery or fruity, and of course I didn’t know. (Do women learn that look of disdain in some kind of secret girl school?)
She eyed me for a long time, trying to decide if I was for real, and then she had me follow her from display to display, sniffing samples of different perfumes. After awhile I started to have an allergic reaction. (I do believe one perfume smelled like my lawn when I mow. Kind of fresh-cut ragweed.) After about the 25th sample, Heather slipped away while I was blowing my nose leaving me red-eyed and sneezing all alone. I could see her watching me in a make-up mirror pretending to be busy.
My hives were starting to itch and my eyes were beginning to swell shut, so I was about to give up and leave when in the corner of the counter I saw some fancy French stuff I hadn’t sniffed yet. Though my nose was running the smell seemed vaguely pleasant. I figured this must have been the stuff I stumbled into before.
I flagged Heather down and forced her to take my Visa and sell me the perfume. She seemed frightened of me, although I’m not sure why. As I staggered to the car in the mall parking lot, I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t stop by the emergency room for some cortizone, epinephrine and antihistamine, but since I could barely breathe and almost see, I just drove home.
My wife really appreciated the gift, because she saw that it cost me much more than the $75 price tag I forgot to remove. Next year I’m going to just refill that same bottle with some of my Old Spice. I like that smell!