Smell you later

I've always been a firm believer in pheromones.  Especially when trying to figure why some girls always had boys after them even though they weren't that cute.  What else could it be but pheromones?  It was like whenever I was out with my friend Stasy and we would see a boy she liked and he was with a girl.  That girl obviously had to be his sister.  

It just makes sense.  

I never had the "magical" pheromone that some girls had, maybe because I AM just that cute to begin with *cough*.  Until now.  But I could have used it during Laquina: the college years.  Especially early on.  It took me a while to jump on the bronzer band wagon.  And then another year or so to realize that not all makeup needs to contain glitter.  We've all been on that train - scented body glitter gel anyone?  Yeah.  

But I've definitely hit the pheromone jack pot as of late.  I feel like I need to knock on wood right now so I don't jinx this.  It started right about the time I moved down here to Arizona.  I was walking into Home Depot (it's amazing how many sentences start with this now....) a while back and this man pushing a cart past me in the parking lot says "hi there young philly" or something equally silly.  "Uh..." I muttered as I half smiled and kept walking.  A couple nights ago I was at my corner pharmacy getting a redbox movie and I look out the corner of my eye and there is this man standing right next to me out of nowhere.  And when I mean right next to me I mean it.  For comparisons sake you could have slid a small text book in between us.  And that was before he leaned in to watch me scroll through the screens.  He was asking me all sorts of questions about the process and then he commented on my selection, "blood and guts, huh?" he said as I nodded yes in reply.  Finally after not talking to him for a bit he sauntered off.  Weird.  And even this temple worker leaned into Rich and said "I guess I don't have to tell you about your wife's big brown eyes".  Thanks, thanks and thanks again men of Arizona.  You have made me feel uber-welcome through your stares and comments.  And in response may I say that I don't even care that all of you have been 65 or over because it still makes my self-confidence sore.  

Just like a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, so is getting hit on by any age.