Monday, 25 January 2010


After a particularly uncomfortable commute this morning, I was left with a smelly shoulder courtesy of a fellow passenger. I'm not sure if I will have to burn the coat but it will need more than just one dry clean, I can just tell.

I am reminded of a string of dates, five to be exact:

The first date was great, we got on well, too well. The second date we got to the room marked heavy petting, as we cuddled in a lustful state, I noticed the odd whiff emitting from this charming new man in my life. Hey, everyone is allowed to get a sweat on! 

Over dates three and four, it got so bad, I would have to turn my head discreetly as he gesticulated. 

Date five and I ended it, I had to, my breathing was becoming erratic.

Was the body odour as offensive as I recall or merely that it wasn't a pheromone I was equipped to deal with?  I sometimes wonder if I should have told him...

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