I swear on Ganesha’s mighty trunk I am really pushing myself on this one.
Leave it to The Dominant Guy to bring up and toy with one of my more…sensitive personal areas. This is going to get punny in a second because the area I’m talking about is the DMZ. The punanni, snatch, cunt, mouse (that one’s for my Swedish peeps) pussy, vajayjay, nappy dugout…I could go on but I’m just stalling and since I now HAVE to write this post, in the words of Lady Macbeth â€œIf it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well Â /Â It were done quickly…”
So, somehow or other in conversation arose the issue of the particular sent of …uh. You know. One of those words I just used to describe genitals and stuff. Now, to be fair, there was no pejorative in these discussions at all. The pejorative slipped in (god this whole post is a vast, lurching, leering double entendre…christ) when I realised my triggers around personal scent, etc, were firing left right and center.
Years back, during a scene, I had my dominant lean in and whisper lasciviously that he could â€œsmell my wet pussyâ€ and I started to cry. Of course that wasn’t his intended reaction so the scene was diverted for a while while we figured out what my issue was. It was that I had no association with people scenting body odor and having that be something fucking awesome. On days when I myself can smell my own …er…you know, things and stuff…it is usually because I’m ovulating and it…um. I tend to get…
Oh, The Dominant Guy…you are lucky you’re irresistible. This is awful!!
Anyway, the point is this. We are having this conversation and he was saying that he had an…appreciation? For my own, you know, scent, and that I had a delightfully â€œearthyâ€ scent when aroused…
â€œEarthy.â€ I was a bit put off. â€œIs that good?â€
â€œBecause you know, when I think of earth I think of dirt.â€
â€œI am certainly not saying you smell like dirt.â€
â€œSo what the fuck’s earthy? It doesn’t sound good!â€
â€œI like your scent.â€
â€œBecause maybe I should, I don’t know, I try to be all hygienic and clean and stuff, but not, you know, overly so with sprays and fake smells and stuff. I do my thing, wash down there, eat yogurt and probiotics to keep everything happy and stuff…â€
â€œDon’t change anything.â€
â€œMaybe you should blog about that.â€
â€œI really do not want to.â€
â€œSee how other people might describe their own scent. Just don’t use the word smell.â€
â€œYeah that does have a less reactive flavor to it, scent vs. smell but I really don’t want to write about that. What the hell would I say? ‘Hey how would you describe the smell of your pussy?’â€
â€œScent. I look forward to seeing that post.â€
â€œOf course, sir.â€
I am only somewhat mollified by knowing that I’m not running around funking up the joint with some raunchy rug. But…yeah. I will permit further mollification later, but right now I’m too embarrassed.
I know I’m not the only one who has these sorts of concerns, and the motherfuckers who make billions of dollars selling douches that ostensibly smell like meadows after a spring rain (See now THAT’S ‘earthy’) are making money and fucking up pussies all over the place because of some bullshit paranoia.
And I can SAY that and KNOW that and STILL have that frisson of anxiety that I don’t smell….good.
I know I’m not alone here. I know those who have to manage, maintain and operate vaginas have had this internal conversation. Those of you who are cunt connoisseurs, how does
smell…er, scent impact you?
OK I’m done now. I will slink onto my plane to San Francisco, slip into the bathroom, and pull a Mary Katherine Gallagher on my crotch.