So I recently beat out this guy for a seat on the bench at Peet’s cafe, cause I am super spry, and he sort of glared at me, but get real, I grew up with two mean older brothers. You think your beetling eyebrows are going to deter me? Huh. But then he got the last laugh when he plopped down next to me to chat with some loser on the other end of the seat and a wave of his stinky old man smell washed over the whole place. Is that what I needed to go with my cream cheese and blueberry danish? I think not. So very not.
And then this evening at the Kabuki Spa, where I was on the receiving end of one of the great massages of our time, the locker room was ripe with Eau de Old Guy. You know what I mean; it is the aural equivalent of the wrinkledy specimens so unfortunately on view over at Infomaniac
What is with that? Why is there a specific stench tied to how old you are? A quick Google search reveals there is, naturalment, a Japanese study that reveals it is a real thing (duh) tied to the breakdown in fatty acids among seniors. And while we’re at it, have you ever noticed any bizarre question leads to a Japanese study? Other research has topics like Political Subdivisions in 18th Century Bohemian Nationalism. Japan’s got Why Do Old People Smell Like That?
This is not idle curiosity on my part. Not only do I have exquisitely delicate sensibilities, I am an Old Guy. Worse I am a fair skinned Old Guy and somehow my peeps and I are the ones who seem particularly fragrant. More Google searching turns up the assurance that this stinkiness seems to be tied to evolution cruelly insuring that nubile youth do not inadvertently mate with monkeys too old to provide for the offspring. “Yes, I would let you mount me if you did not smell of impending death.” Ouch. Harsh, evolution, harsh.
And so I wash and scrub (with Dove soap. If I cannot smell like a young buck, at least I can smell like a Lady) and I have made Secret Agent Fred promise to soak me in a tub of lavender fragrance, Clorox and turpentine if I ever to start to turn into a stinky old man. Still, I brood.
On a related note, circling back to the Kabuki Spa, let me just say that I am opposed to the death penalty, but only conditionally. I firmly believe anyone who farts in a steam room deserves the chair, cause really? Perhaps you are not familiar with the engineering of steam rooms, but believe me, fresh air circulation is not way up on the list.
But to prove I am not just cranky, here:
Almost certainly not weighed down by Stinky Old Man Smell.