So it’s Friday night and you just stepped out of the shower, ready for a night where you want to score. You pat yourself dry, run some Old Spice along your armpits, talc-up the balls and reach for that tiny little glass bottle resting on top of your dress.
Stop. Don’t fucking do it. It’s time for assholes to stop wearing cologne.
Oh, but it’s so nice you say. And subtle. I don’t care if it’s Pheromone Rage by Tommy Hilfiger or Masculine Musk by Brooks Brother or This Cologne Will Make Women Fuck You by Ralph Lauren.
It’s bullshit and you’re a dick and I don’t like you. You are covering your body in rubbing alcohol that’s been steeped in a few sprigs of rosemary because think what? It makes you smell nice? You know what else makes you smell nice. Showering. And using soap like the rest of the society. It’s not that hard. Just vigorously scrub most of yourself with that lather-y foam and you’re done.
Is there something I’m missing here? Why do guys feel like something that requires spritzing is okay? Are you all under some delusion that the average woman has the olfactory sense of bloodhound and the self-control of a pedophile?
“Girls, girls. Someone in this bar is wearing Hustle by Marco Polo. I am going to jump his bones.”
More so, you are a guy. You don’t need to smell nice. You need to smell like you’ve been you’ve been sweating and chopping down trees all day. When they ask why, tell them you are building a log cabin at a summer camp for underprivileged youths. Boom. That’s more of a turn on than any Eau you own.
And any way you wear it is wrong. Either you slather it all over yourself so people can notice, making yourself seem like a Romanian nightclub owner, or you dab a little behind your ears in the off chance a girl gets so close she notices. And then what, she’s just supposed to rip off her panties at the bar because is that a hint of citrus?
Maybe it made sense in high school, when every guys’ sweat glands were churning 24 hours a day, making each of us smell like the inside of a hockey stake. I don’t know about you, but ever since I turned 17 my hormones settled down and deodorant’s done the trick ever since. Do you still reek? You should go see a doctor, not splurging on Fire by Abercrombie.
And the money. That shit’s absurdly expensive. I bought it once in my life, when I was 16, and it cost about two thirds of my monthly allowance. If I’m going to spend $60 on something measured in ounces, it damn well better make me trip balls. And you won’t get that from cologne, unless maybe you go blind for a bit after you drink it. But that’s not that fun. Buy cocaine or MDMA instead. You’ll get just as many girls. Because the next time they sidle up to you, expecting to be hit by a burst of Brüt, you can instead whisper in her ear.
“Would you like to have some of this cocaine or MDMA I have?”
Girls may like a nice smelling man, but they love free drugs. And now, you are both getting laid and no longer an asshole. Problem solved.
[Man putting on cologne image via ShutterStock]