Climbing into the uber of a smoker. Oh my fucking God, I forgot how no amount of cleaning in the world rids anything around them of the oily stench of nicotine and internal gangrene. & he wanted to be all enclosed. ugh! Even with the Air conditioning on it just circulated the lung rot.

Nevermind the teeth and the lips, and what it does to the eyes. The older they get, the more the men just tool around smelling like their under-carriage is coated in the detritus of a wet ashtray someone had hocked a luge into ages ago that had just never dried up.

15 minutes of being dutch oven’d in the backseat of slowly suicidal, spunky smelling, stick sucking guy to whom daily showers could no longer make any dent in the scent of just felt like an eternity. It was a 15 minute ride and it’d been so long since I’d suffered through smoker’s skin seepage that I got back and threw what I’d worn in the washing machine and jumped in the shower. Couldn’t even wait because it’d just permeate the atmosphere.

It’s so funny because I used to have fond euro memories of a lil tobacco on a dude, you know? & like once a year I may crave one. But I realized a while ago that the dudes were young and virile, smelling like clean sweat, sex and soap. Not old flesh and that smell to a house when all looks well but you can tell by the smell there are plumbing issues and a floor or a wall needs to be ripped out.

The thought would have me puking on dude’s stomach every morning for forcing me to olfactorily deal with that everyday.

Good morni- retch bluuuuuhhhh~glug-

…and it’s that they don’t even know!

They stopped smelling themselves years ago. Burnt the nasal mechanics out or something. All to do something as a pantomime of their manhood. Sold a lie, bought it, and willfully rotting in it. I understand missing the brimstone of hell, but got damn! go detox! sheesh.