Sometimes its neat when a song, or a smell, or a sight brings up an old memory of something long forgotten. You get to marvel at the good ole days and sing along to the song you remember singing along to the first time you drove a car by yourself, or the first time you got ready for a high school dance. It can be great, really. And then, there are the other times. The times when the smell of perfume or cologne takes you on a 15 minute memory joy ride through past relationships, or when a song comes on the radio that takes you back to the very worst, no-good, horrible time in your life.
There I was, sitting in class all unsuspecting like, minding my own business, praying for an early release from class when the smell of an ex hit me. There’s not much I can do to avoid the smell of the cologne he used to wear (or still does wear, for all I know). It’s common. It’s everywhere. It waits for me in empty elevators. It hits me when I visit gas stations, dressing rooms, and hallways. It’s fucking everywhere.
Being a full-blown nerd and a world-class kiss-ass, I always sit near the front of class. The smell of my ex was coming from behind me though, but I couldn’t turn around because class had started and I didn’t want to be an asshole and draw any unnecessary attention to myself and besides, I knew, in my little heart of hearts, that my ex was not behind me.
Still though, the smell made me crazy. It invoked a host of things – good and bad and in between. My mind, being totally ignorant of my hostility toward resurfacing ex memories, thwarted all my attempts to focus on the lecture and instead spent the next 2 hour and 40 minute class skipping gleefully down memory lane in a full play-by-play of our nearly three-year anniversary. It was all, Hey Terra, you remember that time that X happened and then X happened and you said X and blah blah blah ex ex ex blah blah? And I was all, shut up, shut up, shut up, I’m trying to learn about Judaism here! I have an exam next week! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!
My memory, that asshole, can conjure up a lot in 2 hours and 40 minutes. I also think the ventilation system in that room was timed to circulate the air, and the smell of my ex, in perfect 10 minute intervals. The smell of cologne would start to fade, only to come back 10 times as strong as before. For 2 hours and 40 minutes.
By the time class let out, I was exhausted. Annoyed. Irritated. Sure, it’s great to remember, but I like to remember when I want to remember, not when some guy decides to smell like some other guy.
And that’s why boys shouldn’t wear cologne. Ever.