Eeeeewww!

Okay. This is why I don't flag Orange Left. Orange being my favorite color.

I don't like ManStank. As in, ripe pits and crotch situations.

I just... ...no.

Truth be told, I don't like any smells. Okay, maybe lemon, verbena, baking bread, fresh mint, garlic. But that's it. No perfume. No cologne. I've been holding my breath in elevators for my entire life. Since forever.

Now, I don't mind that just-got-out-of-the-gym bouquet. That sure works for me. But when it gets sour, I have to take a pass.

A few weeks ago I made a trip down to the Bike Stop in Philadelphia. It wasn't a great night. But there was this one verrrry hot man there. He had that look I can't resist: like he was up for anything. Total lowlife dirtbag cumdump. The kind of guy you couldn't take to your office picnic or introduce to your parents or you'd be written out of the will. We spotted each other, and made an immediate beeline for each other. He was visiting from SF, although he grew up in Philadelphia. Things were going great. I was all ready to head wherever and put it to this man with everything I got.

And then, I caught a whiff.

He hadn't showered for days.

Special Guy told me that a long time ago, when he worked at Daddies in the Castro, the guy who ran the bar never ever showered. Ever. He would get in the shower and wash his hair, but that was it. You could walk in the door and know whether or not he was in da house.

Hot, but not for me.

I think it's just a function of the fact that my mouth is my second favorite organ. After my brain. Whether it be Pho, tea, chevre, cigars, porkloin, latté, or whatever. Putting something in my mouth is the expressway to pleasure. And so I'm not big on getting anything in there that doesn't mean bliss. If we hook up, and I give you a blow job, that means I'm reeeeeally reeeeeeally into you. Most of the time, if I can get through the night without having to go down, I'm a happy man.

And I wish it could be otherwise, but I just don't eroticize smells. And when it comes to a really strong smell, like the ManStank thing, I have to pass.

So I had to tell that very hot man from SF that I had to get home.

It probably would have put a damper on things if I asked him to take a shower, right?

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