June 17: Hold Your Breath

No one pays him any attention. He goes about his business alone and quiet. I sit from the sidelines and watch him keep to himself. I feel sad for him. I want him to feel welcome and not like that of an outcast. I ask him a casual question about who he is and he stops to answer. He stops to answer a little too close for my comfort. He opens his mouth to respond and his yellow, crooked teeth are exposed before a wave of hot breath pushes through and slaps me in the face. We all know someone with bad breath. We've all had that encounter of communicating with someone that invades our personal space. But to have the two be one and the same is a horrible, horrible combination.

As I sat and listened to this guy talk, it was painfully clear why no one bothered. It was a disgusting reminder why I didn't bother. I had talked to the guy before, but never in this proximity. I never enjoyed talking to him because I thought he was a dirt bag, but now that I'm aware of this retched gas that permeates from within, I will do everything in my power to avoid any and all communication.

In high school, I knew guys that had horrendous breath and I was always amazed that it didn't affect their relationships with girls. Unlike the aforementioned douchebag, these guys were genuinely nice people. They were funny and smart. They could contribute to the conversation without creeping everyone out. They had the confidence to get girls, but I could never understand how a girl could voluntarily kiss something so vile and repugnant. I could hardly talk to the guys without holding my breath and riding in the same vehicle with them was torturous. They always minded their personal distance from people, but to be in a relationship with a girl means that distance doesn't exist. How could a kiss be anything short of making out with a dumpster?

Maybe the old adage is true; love is blind. Then again, doesn't that go hand in hand with the expression, beauty is in the eye of the beholder which means both of these cliches are purely physical? Love is blind. It doesn't see, but it sure as hell can smell! I have an extreme lack of experience in the field of love so maybe love is blind to all including scent. All I know is that when Turd Ferguson opened his mouth and the cloud of hot, damp air billowed out and sank into the pores of my face I nearly fainted. If I ever find myself in the presence of a lady friend with that kind of exhalation, I won't care how good she looks. I won't be going in for the lip lock.