I spent $300 on perfume last week. Call it what you want. A millennial on job keeper with a disposable income that doesn’t know how to save. A 30+ something looking for love. New year = New scent. I’m not really sure. But I did it. It smells like Petey whisky and Cognac. It’s remarkable. Made by this Dutch perfumer guy that calls himself “The Nose”. Brilliant. Anyone that calls himself “The Nose” gets bucks from me. I thought this is an investment into my future, into my love life and casually blew my rent money for the week. I even watched the doco about him called “The Nose” He is mighty secretive about his perfume recipes, but says sometimes he puts cum, hash, and maybe some excrement into it to create the scent. And damn it smells good. It has everything going for it. In fact, I’m wearing it now. The perfume sales lady told me to dab it on the back of my neck so I can get continual wafts of it….that the scent should be “Just for me” I told her “Lady if I’m gonna drop this much cash on a scent I want the whole world to know about it, I want people on the street smelling it and swooning, none of this “Just for me” bullshit.”
But today I wear it just for me. I’m alone in my little covid cabin in the bush half-naked drinking iced coffee in the middle of Woop Woop trying to conceal the smell of mouse shit in my cabin with $300 perfume.
Yup. It’s true. I’m 35 years old. Living with my parents again.
A few weeks ago I texted a tinder date and invited him for a good old fashioned romp in a hotel room. He was a bit taken aback by my forwardness. I guess I was too. I blamed it on the blue moon and the fact that I’m ovulating and semi lonely. He said it was too much pressure and too much expectation and that we hardly knew each other and tried to psychoanalyse my text. …. I told him YOLO and not to overthink it, like what’s the worse that could happen, we could both get an STD, and I could get preggers to a tinder date…. Not so bad, huh. I mean what kind of self-respecting male would say no to such an opportunity. Maybe he was broke and couldn’t afford the hotel room… I’m not quite sure… I guess I’ll probably won’t see him again.
I have never done anything like that before… but since cougaring a young Israeli boy on a one night stand , the spell has been broken, the chastity belt unlocked, the nun habit dried and chopped and rolled up into a smoke mix. I’m ready. Ready to get around for a bit. Finally. Jeez. My friends are stoked. Finally I’ll have some new goss to tell them. Some new stories.
So here I am living in the bush, with my entire family. Rich on Job Keeper, addicted to buying mid-century furniture and Afghan camel bags on Facebook marketplace. 2 weeks clean cause I got vain and started looking like a fag hag, and people judge you hard when you’re 35 and still a Fag Hag, so I’m trying hard to clean up my act, get back on the wagon and get myself a glow up.
My ex casually commented to me the other day that gals just don’t look that good after 40. I couldn’t believe it. It’s easy for them, with that salt and pepper George Cloony sheik look, dad bod and 7-day growth, but for us…. Damn.
I took it straight to heart and now I’m trying extra hard, I’m doing it all, I’m believing the hype. I’m trying unsuccessfully to do a HITT workout daily, I’m rubbing coffee grinds on my skin, gargling coconut oil, smearing turmeric on my face, putting cider vinegar in my hair, brushing charcoal in my teeth, drinking way too much water, doing squats cause my lil sister told me my ass has dropped and spraying on a lavish load of my $300 perfume.