You Gouda Be Kidding Me!

So tonight's date went okay...except for one itty, bitty part: the girl was cheesy.

Not in the Hallmark Movie of the Week kinda way either. I mean she -- honest to blog -- literally smelled like cheese. The good news (?) was that it wasn't really all that overwhelming of a smell. In fact, I couldn't smell her when we were sitting across from each other over coffee. It was only when she walked by me, as I opened the door for her when we entered and left Starbucks and when I hugged her goodbye. It was one of those smells where you're not initially sure of its source. When she walked past me the first time, I started to smell myself thinking maybe it was me or something. But then I remembered I was wearing Gillette Clear Gel "Fresh," not Gillette Clear Gel "Cheddar." It was definitely her.

I spent the first half of the date trying to figure out the exact smell. I wasn't sure if it was old cheese, or the smell of heated cheese (like nachos or something) or the smell of fresh cheese when you open or unwrap it at the deli. I finally figured out it most resembled the smell of individually packaged string cheese, like the kind Mom used to put in the brown bag for lunch. "Cool, sharp and earthy" would be the most accurate way I guess you could describe the aroma.

After figuring out that quandary, I spent part two of the date wondering if she was aware of the smell or if it's one of those things that you can't smell on yourself. Surely she must have friends or family that would say something to her, I thought. Who knows? Maybe they smell like cheese too. I'm not about to find out, though. We had our little date, went our separate ways, and I got home in time to catch the end of American Idol. (I watched 30 minutes of it, which was 29 minutes more than I had spent watching all year.) Luckily a friend cooked me chicken and rice casserole for dinner because that box of mac and cheese back in the apartment never sounded more unappetizing.