Written September 2023
Impression
I blind bought this 9 years ago when I very briefly worked at the local goth shop because I assumed it would smell like my beloved Kenneth Cole Reaction. I was very wrong! I don’t hate it but it never gelled with me – it wore me, instead of me wearing it. The beginning is this green fresh thing, the platonic ideal of a green men’s cologne. Then it settles into a strong, spicy, scratchy woody smell, and powerfully stays like that until you take it off. It always gave me a headache until last night, the day I decided to give it away. That scratchy woody smell, I don’t know what it is. I’ve encountered it in Sailors by the Zoo in a tolerable way, and in H24 from Hermes in a way I don’t like. It just doesn’t work for me – I don’t enjoy smelling it on my body, and I don’t want to smell it on a sexy guy.
Still, for the longest time, I was attached to the bottle – it conjured up a very potent image. But yesterday I got my sample of H24, and now it’s like…it no longer has that power over me. I put a bunch of old perfumes to give away and my dad really liked it. That’s the best way to end this sort of thing – I didn’t want to sell it to a stranger.
Story
The waning crescent moon sneers at you as you make your way through the streets of downtown McAllen. You feel dizzy and nasty, almost like you want to throw up. Your companion, a lean, dark-haired, well-built white Mexican with a distinct North Mexican accent, is pissed. He is nominally your boyfriend, but you can feel how much he hates having to take you home.
It’s not like you planned to ruin everyone’s night.
It kind of just happened.
But really, what did everyone expect? If you all wanted a nice, wholesome, proper night, you could’ve gotten something to eat at Salt or something. But that’s not what anyone wanted – everyone wanted to get fucked up.
The thing is, you hate your boyfriend’s friends, and they hate you too. Well, his one guy friend is nice, and you always thought he was much cooler and cuter than your boyfriend. Really, he was the one you wanted to end up with, but it didn’t end up working out that way. To make things worse, in exchange for that slight kindness, his girlfriend – skinny, rich, perfect– fucking hates you. She doesn’t even like him!
But that’s just how things go.
At this point you don’t even remember what happened. But clearly you said something you shouldn’t have, and even with the loudness of the music and the thick miasma of perfume in a cramped room full of sweaty people drenched with the stuff, it was intolerable. And so here you are, in the brisk night air with your shitty boyfriend, wanting more than anything to just go home.
You try reaching out for his hand, but he doesn’t notice. You try placing your hand in his, and he just scowls and swats it away.
That’s about what you expected. You don’t know why you even tried.
You study his features in the pale moonlight. It’s not like he isn’t cute. And he’s definitely fit. Sometimes, he’s even nice to you. But deep down, you know you aren’t together because you love each other – it’s just something you’re expected to do. Only losers don’t have anybody.
The walk to the car feels like purgatory. It’s painfully far way. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so fucking cheap, the paid parking lots close to everything were RIGHT there. He knew you would be wearing your shortest dress and highest heels, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to spend the ten bucks.
Everyone else did.
The fresh brisk air morphs into an intolerable cold. To expect warmth from this guy is out of the question. Your body is enveloped in goosebumps and your feet hurt.
God! Why didn’t you just stay home?
Finally, after what seems like a million blocks, you get to the car. It’s a sleek, shiny, wine-red thing. You don’t know what kind it is, but you know it isn’t cheap. Even now, looking at it makes you feel a tickle of pride.
The enclosed space makes your fragrances mingle and bloom. Yours, a sickly-sweet caramel scent (a Juicy Couture, you weren’t sure which, a family gift). His, a fresh green ode to masculinity. You couldn’t stand how they smelled together.
You decide to try one last time.
You lean your head against his chest. Once, he smelled like making it, like you were finally living the way you were meant to. But now, he smells like the disgust in his eyes – a sharp, painful reminder of every way you fall short.
He doesn’t push you away, but he doesn’t wrap his arm around you like you wanted.
It’s only a minute, but it feels like an uneasy eternity.
“I have to drive.”
And so you two sit silently in the night. The wide open roads are empty, as it’s long before the clubs close. It makes the miles-long drive to your home the next town over mercifully short. You sneak glances at him. You note with satisfaction how well his muscles fill out the expensive polo you bought him– you thought it would look good, and it does. You feel a swell of pride in your heart, despite everything.
Finally, you’re parked in front of your house. Your parents and siblings are asleep, so you could stay there as long as you want. “Will he kiss me?” you wonder, and look to his face for answers.
His expression is hard and distant, as if he wishes he were anywhere but here. He notices your gaze, and looks at you with irritation.
Not even you could try after seeing something like that. It was just too painful.
An awkward moment, swollen and heavy with all the things you two may never be able to say.
Finally, he looks you deep in the eyes and asks,
“Why can’t you just be normal?”
You can’t look at him anymore. It’s something you’ve been asking yourself all your life. You did everything you were supposed to do, God knows you tried, but it was never enough. You could make yourself look like everyone else, you could talk like them, you could even act like them, but they could always tell you weren’t one of them. You worked so hard to have a normal handsome boyfriend, and a normal life, but it always fell apart the moment you were able to truly speak your mind.
More than anything, you want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness, to say you’re sorry, to say you’ll never act like that again. But something tells you to keep your mouth shut, open the door, and softly say, “Good night.”
The moment you step out, he drives off. He never waited for you to be safely inside. But it was just as well – for him to suddenly care about your safety would hurt your pride.
You pull a cigarette out of your teeny Louis Vuitton purse and smoke under the moon’s gentle light.