I had completely forgotten about that Seinfeld episode! That really stinks. Nothin’ says lovin’ like lots of good rubbin’ 
(and baths–definitely baths!)
I wonder if there have been any studies on this kind of thing? I remember once where I stopped off at a convenience store, and a man walked in who just reeked. Not ‘smelled a bit off’, but as he passed through the door 15 feet away I got hit with a wall of stench. Now, there are plenty of less-than-fresh people who pass through convenience stores, but this guy was wearing nice clothes (button-up white short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants) that looked freshly pressed and had no dirt or sweat on them, and his hair also looked styled and recently washed, not streaked with sweat or dirt. Very strange.
I used to work for a guy like that. He had some glandular condition, and despite the fact that he bathed every day, he just reeked. Nice guy, too.
I used to work for a guy like that. He had some glandular condition, and despite the fact that he bathed every day, he just reeked. Nice guy, too.
No way, man. More water and chicks for the rest of us.
Some people just have a weird aversion to bathing. I understand that Thomas Alva Edison didn’t believe in bathing, and didn’t do it, and he really REEKED. Same for former tennis champion Bill Tilden. When he jumped over the net to congratulate an opponent, the opponent would jump over the net and run the opposite way.
Wonder if it’s some kind of obscure psychological problem?
Ya know… a woman who can craft that sort of deeply meaningful poetic descriptive language, that could effect me so deeply as to make me do a double-check, surepticious sniff of my own tall-located armpits…
Definitely Deserves a Date with a Bathed intelligent guy!
or two… (dates, that is … I’m assuming you’re of the more conservative “one guy in an evening, even if he is a lawyer” sorta bent!)
I had a friend who was ready to assemble a book of her various experiences …
the working title:
“Date for Food” or “A Girl’s Gotta Eat!”
'Fraid the meeting a date at the door in only a towel, is only the beginning of the amazing stuff my gender seems to think constitutes the path to nookie-land!
shaking his head at the thought of a date without a shower…
Wyatt
That’s why I don’t go on dates anymore. A woman hasn’t even met me and she already wants to control my life. Screw that. Next thing you know she’s telling you that a piling the clothes on the floor, in a corner, is not the way to keep them clean. Women! Next thing you know they’ll be demanding to know if you have brushed your teeth before going down on them.
Nothing like autosexuality, I’m telling ya. 
hmmm. which to tell…the horrible first date story, or the stinky person story?
The receptionist where I work owns 15 cats. She REEKS of cat piss/cat litter. I have to sit in her chair and cover her duties whilst she goes to lunch, and it REEKS as bad as he does. I’m sure it’s ineveitable having that many felines. That don’t make it any less heave-worthy.
Well, I don’t know what kind of women you’ve given up on dating, but any guy who had the appearance, let alone aroma, such that I even thought about asking the tooth-brushing question ain’t getting a goodnight peck on the cheek, let alone what you are suggesting.
Hear Hear.
Or in the alternative, badgering one about using the actual clothes hamper rather than the convenient corner.
And I have both a maid who thinks I’m her son and a francophone faince with particular views. Reduces me to tears I say. If only they’d stop rearranging the kitchen.
Well …
Eva could solve the problem with her date by sending him a nice jug of cologne he could splash on liberally, in lieu of bathing.
At least that seems to be a solution for some men and women (urk).
**
High standards, babe. Never compromise them. 
*Pauses to ponder … drew the line After scumbag … and before ???
A friend of mine is a costumer at a local theater. She tells me they have had to start a policy of informing cast members to wear underwear and bathe on the days they show up for fittings. She has horror stories that will fry your nose hairs. Yeek.
Or after.
Amazingly, no one in this thread has realized the obvious reason for the man’s stench. With the hunt still on for renegade members of Saddam Hussein’s regime, Eva’s date was just trying to reassure her that he had no connection with the Baath party.
well, it had to be said.
And the subject of bodily odor and attractiveness would be incomplete without a mention of Rasputin, the legendary Russian “Mad Monk”, who apparently was irresistible to numerous ladies in the royal court, despite his bathing on an extremely infrequent basis.
Darn you, Jackmannii! I saw the Iraqi reference on the previous page, and immediately thought of the Baath party joke!
I thought I would be the first, but I saw your post and you ruined it for me . . . . :smack:
But good for you, by the way. 
I agree. It needed to be said.
Oh, God. I had almost put the horror out of my mind.
I was sixteen that warm autumn, working in my local community theater as the stage manager/props director for a musical revue written by a truly divine local. Most of the performers were older women singing some wonderful old songs along the lines of Stormy Weather and My Funny Valentine. Lovely torch songs here and there, a cute story…
One woman, whose name I will not utter (it may summon her, for one thing, and anyway I’d like to protect the innocent), had some song that I can’t quite remember that involved her descending from the stage and generally flirting with the men in the audience. Keep in mind that this sweet lady was in her mid to late 50s – not in itself a bad thing, mind – and was possessed with what I now refer to as a “womanly heft”. She wasn’t grossly overweight, mind…just, well, not given to a girlish figure.
Her dress, however, was. It was red. Bright red. And it would have been clingy on a lady four sizes smaller and twenty years older. On her, it was like a sausage skin. It held together nicely, and it held her all in, but I swear you could detail her muscle structure from twenty paces.
This did not overly bother me. It made me giggle once or twice, and wonder if she couldn’t find a more becoming outfit, but I mostly ignored it.
Until the fateful day when my dearest mother, who was helping me out backstage, was called away when the Diva needed to get into her dress. “Oh, could you help her, honey?”
She was sweaty. This I could understand; she’d been on and off the stage for a good hour and a half already, and a lot of that was singing and dancing. I don’t remember a smell, though it may be that I merely blocked it from my mind. I do know I was holding my breath. The age spots…again, those happen when you’re in your fifties.
But she wasn’t wearing a bra. :eek:
She was a…well-endowed woman, as I remember, and as I think back on it now I say to myself “Why yes, of course she wasn’t wearing a bra. Nothing’s going anywhere under that dress, and as tight as it is you’d see the lines.”
Imagine then, if you will, being a blushing sixteen year old girl, still getting in touch with your own femininity, faced with fitting a size 18/20 woman other than yourself into a size 10 dress.
The zipper nearly broke. It did break the next time, but just the pull-up part, so we threaded it with a wire to pull it up and removed the wire when she had to go onstage.
The memory still haunts me.
Oh. My. Lord.
I just ran into Aromatic Boy. Luckily he didn’t see me.
This makes no sense. I went to the annual Ethnic Arts Festival in my hometown, which is the first suburb north of Chicago. He lives in a town a good 15 miles southwest, and had no earthly reason to be anywhere near there, except that I made the apparent mistake of visiting the Middle Eastern dance exhibition.
As much as I love ethnic music of various sorts, I left immediately.
(And before anyone asks, no, he wasn’t on stage. He was in the audience, and I came about 6 feet from walking right into him.)
It’s been that kind of week. Also this week, I’ve run into another ex and his fiancee/wife (I don’t know whether they got married yet and didn’t stop to chat, although they did see me), and had a guy who I went on a 5-hour date with a few months back completely forget anything about me and leave me a voice mail for my Reader Matches ad (I wrote a thread about it, but am too lazy to link to it).
And tomorrow an old friend, whom I dated one summer when I was in college, is coming over for a nice dinner on my back porch. At this point he really falls more into the “old friend” category, but with the way the planets are apparently positioned this week, I’m beginning to wonder…
What the hell is going on?
Well… I have a confession. Until very recently, I didn’t bathe more than twice a week. I wore deodorant, and my hair just got shinier, but not any oilier as I slept on it. I’ve asked my friends, and apparently I didn’t (and don’t) smell bad.
If I don’t wear deodorant, though… whoo boy.