Monday, March 26, 2007

Wallflower

Last night I went to a swing dance club with my guy--the first time I've really ever seen him do this thing, even though he's been going dancing two nights a week when possible for the nearly six months (!) we've been going out. He was light as a feather on the dance floor, and I kind of had a retro kiss-in-Times-Square swoon moment watching him out there. Adorable.

Anyway, y'all know swing dancing is not my area (not yet anyway), so I sat at the bar and chit chatted with his friends and bought people drinks to ingratiate myself. And as I was sitting there, this guy walked by wearing a fragrance that smelled just like junior high to me. I guess it might have been Drakkar Noir or something? I wanted to ask him what it was, but if it was actually Drakkar, I thought the question might embarrass us both, so I let it go. But it's amazing how one quick whiff of a particular aroma can bring you right back to Mrs. Novack's homeroom. Or to not dancing to the MC Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock tape at the summer camp dance, but instead making comments with fellow gawky bunk mates off to the side.

Not much changes, apparently. Thank god for continuity at least.

3 comments:

mexi melt said...

omg! i totally had that same whiff-xperience this weekend while sitting at pasta moon for lunch in half moon bay before heading out to 'rouhg-it' at the campsite.

the waiter with the lemon water kept walking past me and smelled of axe or old spice or ck1 or drakkar or soemthing that made me think if 14 year olds that wore cavaricci pants and rayon shirts and made me and my tidal wave bangs swoon back in the day. i almost jumped him.

sometimes i think of my little dog friend with the new baby and her love for the smell of her hubby's armpits and i think GROSS! YEAH! GROSS!! but then sometimes i think it's kind of cute.

amanda bee said...

It is funny how incredibly hot and mature drakkar was when I was in sixth grade. I mean, like, eight graders wore it.

Avril Love said...

I am thoroughly enjoying your blog. I want to finally meet the blue-eyed guy. And I want to go dancing with you, D. You are not made to be a wallflower.