This morning, I couldn’t help but notice that a female student sitting next to me was wearing too much perfume. It was a pleasant fragrance–slightly citrus, slightly floral, and unmistakably feminine. But there was too much of it to take in, and I found myself growing nauseated and even a little resentful. But even so, I couldn’t get enough of it. As much as it repelled me, I was also strangely attracted to the noxious scent, and I had to fight some base, primal instinct to rush towards it.
The most unsettling thing about this perfume incident is that it represents my life’s experience with women more aptly than I’d care to admit. Am I a closet misogynist, or am I just a scorned lover that loves women far more than he knows he should? It’s an intricate balance, this human condition thing. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where the allegory ends and real life begins.
It’s all allegory. Life is always ending.