Wednesday, June 29, 2005
personal atmosphere - revisited
Originally published on my old blog some time in 2004. This one was later adapted and extended into a Patchworks column. There's something a little more visceral about the original.
When I was a senior in high-school, I dated this girl. She was the first girl that I’d ever been intimate with on any level. I’d kissed girls before. But this was the first girl that I ever went farther with.
I would spend Saturday evenings at this girl’s house. Watching TV in her room. Lying in the floor together. Kissing. Touching each other.
I can still remember driving home from her house in my blue 1989 Chevy Beretta, racing to beat my midnight curfew. Tired, but energized. Always feeling a little guilty over what we’d done. – and overwhelmed by the smell of her. I could smell her on my clothes, on my hands. I could smell her perfume, her hair, her body. Every scent a little piece of evidence of what we had done that night.
As soon as I got home, I would wash my hands in an attempt to erase any proof or our encounter. I was so overwhelmed by the smells, that I assumed my parents would have to notice them. But they never did. Or if they did they never said anything.
That was almost 14 years ago. I continued to date the girl into my first semester of college, but eventually the distance became too much. Eventually, one night, I washed her smell off of my hands for the last time.
There were other girls after her and, of course, every girl had her own scent. In college, though, and as an adult, there are fewer reasons to try and erase the scents. You no longer live with suspicious parents. You no longer feel the need to hide what you’ve been doing. So sometimes you let the scents linger – you let her perfume curl around your fingers as a reminder. And it’s only when something goes wrong that it becomes necessary to try and remove the smell. It’s only when the relationship falls apart that you have to wash her off your hands.
The older you get, the longer the relationships last, the harder it gets to erase those smells. You find some of them won’t go away no matter how hard you scrub your hands. So the only option you’re left with is to try and cover them. You try other girls, other perfumes, cigarettes, pills, drinks – anything to cover the smell of her. But it doesn’t go away. So you have to live with it. You have to accept that her smell is a part of you now – tiny particles, intermingling into a tapestry of scents that make up your own personal atmosphere. A little piece of every person you’ve ever loved is orbiting your body right now, marking trails through the air around you. Take a deep breath
i remember this one. i followed it up with some retarded one-liner in an attempt to sidestep the inevitable compliment: that you are a really great writer.
now leave kentucky or your talents will be wasted forever. i know the connie's back me up on this one.
ps. is this what weezer is talking about in "only in dreams?" i think so.
Now I feel bad about the gay crack in the Paris Hilton dream thread.
Thanks. Seriously.
wow
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When I was a senior in high-school, I dated this girl. She was the first girl that I’d ever been intimate with on any level. I’d kissed girls before. But this was the first girl that I ever went farther with.
I would spend Saturday evenings at this girl’s house. Watching TV in her room. Lying in the floor together. Kissing. Touching each other.
I can still remember driving home from her house in my blue 1989 Chevy Beretta, racing to beat my midnight curfew. Tired, but energized. Always feeling a little guilty over what we’d done. – and overwhelmed by the smell of her. I could smell her on my clothes, on my hands. I could smell her perfume, her hair, her body. Every scent a little piece of evidence of what we had done that night.
As soon as I got home, I would wash my hands in an attempt to erase any proof or our encounter. I was so overwhelmed by the smells, that I assumed my parents would have to notice them. But they never did. Or if they did they never said anything.
That was almost 14 years ago. I continued to date the girl into my first semester of college, but eventually the distance became too much. Eventually, one night, I washed her smell off of my hands for the last time.
There were other girls after her and, of course, every girl had her own scent. In college, though, and as an adult, there are fewer reasons to try and erase the scents. You no longer live with suspicious parents. You no longer feel the need to hide what you’ve been doing. So sometimes you let the scents linger – you let her perfume curl around your fingers as a reminder. And it’s only when something goes wrong that it becomes necessary to try and remove the smell. It’s only when the relationship falls apart that you have to wash her off your hands.
The older you get, the longer the relationships last, the harder it gets to erase those smells. You find some of them won’t go away no matter how hard you scrub your hands. So the only option you’re left with is to try and cover them. You try other girls, other perfumes, cigarettes, pills, drinks – anything to cover the smell of her. But it doesn’t go away. So you have to live with it. You have to accept that her smell is a part of you now – tiny particles, intermingling into a tapestry of scents that make up your own personal atmosphere. A little piece of every person you’ve ever loved is orbiting your body right now, marking trails through the air around you. Take a deep breath
i remember this one. i followed it up with some retarded one-liner in an attempt to sidestep the inevitable compliment: that you are a really great writer.
now leave kentucky or your talents will be wasted forever. i know the connie's back me up on this one.
ps. is this what weezer is talking about in "only in dreams?" i think so.
Now I feel bad about the gay crack in the Paris Hilton dream thread.
Thanks. Seriously.
wow
Post a Comment
