1 month ago
15 
‘Why don’t you have a shower? You’ll feel less tired,’ my date, Lucy, suggested.
We had just spent the evening at her house on our first date, and were coming up for air after making out.
It seemed like a thoughtful suggestion – I was, after all, feeling drowsy after knocking back the Pinot and needed to perk up.
So I went along with it.
I had no idea that this gorgeous woman was actually saying I stank of B.O. and desperately needed a wash.
It was the summer of 2017 when I came across Lucy on the dating app Plenty of Fish.
I stopped scrolling as soon as I saw her profile picture – she was wearing a cute beanie hat and cuddling her pug Alfie, showing off her tattooed arms. I fancied her straight away.
Lucy hit the ‘flirt’ button first – which sends a pre-filled message into someone’s inbox – and we started talking online. The connection felt real, as we chatted non-stop about our dogs, families and musicals.
Getting deeper, Lucy described her relationship history as a ‘car crash’, and confessed that her marriage had ended a few weeks ago when her wife walked out.
She’d only set up a Plenty of Fish profile for an ego boost.
I, meanwhile, had been happily single for a couple of years after a string of failed relationships. I was on a few dating sites but wasn’t looking for anything serious – just some fun, maybe a casual hookup.
When Lucy told me about her marriage ending, I felt for her instantly, but knew I’d need to tread carefully with her feelings.
After two weeks, we decided to meet in real life – she lived in Bristol and I was working in London, but we decided Bristol would be a great location for the first date because it was easier for me to travel.
It was a boiling hot summer day, so I grabbed a quick shower at work in London before taking the train.
I was still wearing my office clothes, and by the time I arrived at Temple Meads station, the August heat was getting to me and I was starting to sweat.
I wasn’t worried I smelled, though; I had total confidence in my new natural deodorant made of charcoal powder.
As it turned out, this confidence was misplaced; I later realised my deodorant did absolutely nothing.
When Lucy picked me up at the station, my first thought was: ‘Wow, she’s gorgeous’.
Luckily, there was chemistry from the get-go and she made no comment on my odour.
We went back to hers, sat on the sofa, drank wine and talked for hours about life, love, and everything.
She told me more about her marriage – it sounded like she’d been through the mill, and my heart went out to her.
But I couldn’t hide that I was massively attracted to her.
And I hoped she liked me.
What I still didn’t realise was that my deodorant was failing miserably; and that, by now, Lucy had noticed a smell – like a warm gym bag, or ripe Brie.
Yawning, I mentioned I was tired, so when she suggested I took a shower it felt like a good suggestion to give me a flirty energy boost.
It was on the landing outside the bathroom, of all places, that we finally kissed – I’d only asked her to show me how the shower worked and then it just happened naturally.
The sparks were flying – but then to my horror, Lucy started bleeding from her neck, when the scabs on her one-week-old tattoo began to dislodge with the steam.
By this point we were both a couple of glasses of wine down, so we managed to laugh it off, clean up and stay up until dawn.
It was the kind of night that made me miss my train without a second’s regret. I made my way back to London later that day and knew it was love at first sight.
I kept travelling to Bristol, evenings and weekends, until Lucy asked me to move in, a year into our relationship.
And, a couple of years later, the truth finally came out. We were watching First Dates on TV and I made a comment about how it shouldn’t really have worked out for us – Lucy was still technically married, and her tattoo bled everywhere.
Her response stopped me in my tracks. ‘Yeah, and you were using that awful deodorant and smelled of B.O.’
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. But, as always, she reassured me that she liked me and knew I just needed some decent deodorant.
18 months after that first armpit-smelly, tattoo-bleeding evening, Christmas arrived – along with the most romantic proposal from Lucy.
At the start of December, she’d presented me with an advent calendar made of cute little wooden drawers, each one containing a handwritten gift tag with a reason she loved me.
On Christmas Eve, I came home from work late. I opened the final drawer for December 24th – inside was a note telling me to turn around.
I spun on my heels to see Lucy down on one knee, ring box open.
It was the easiest yes I’d ever said.
This summer, we celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary – and it just goes to show, you should never judge a person by their smell.
Because they might turn out to be the love of your life.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing izzie.price@metro.co.uk.
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Bengali (Bangladesh) · 
English (United States) ·