one of my favorite points in a burgeoning relationship is the first time you really smell them.  maybe they’re wearing perfume, maybe the slightest hint of vanilla or lavender, and maybe you’ve spent a night out at dinner and dancing at some ridiculous club downtown. at the end of the night you’re sweaty and laughing, self-conscious about sweat spots on your clothes, she’s lightly draped her arm over your arm to steady herself as she adjusts her heel, and you catch that first lazy scent of whatever she’s wearing; maybe it’s just her, maybe she just smells good.  (maybe it’s pheromones.)

and maybe you’re in the car driving back to drop her off at her apartment, and there’s that awkward goodbye where you’re not quite sure if you should give her a kiss, and maybe you don’t, and then you’re in the bathroom brushing your teeth, staring at your imperfections in the mirror and imagining the perfect scenario for how that date should’ve ended: she, draped on your arm, adjusting her heel, finds out it’s broken. she holds the heel in her hand, showing you, and says, “i’ll just take them off,” and you say, “and walk barefoot on the street?  i don’t think so,” and before she can contest you’ve swept her up in your arms, taking her to your car, and there as the windows start to fog up with your residual body heat from intense tangoing, you kiss, soft and naive, learning each other’s lips.  and then you drive her home.

and as you’re dreaming this, lying in your bed, struggling to find the perfect sleeping position, you catch the faintest hint of her scent again, a thin tendril of vanilla or lavender curling around your nose, begging you to remember.  and it smells like it’s coming from your pillow.

the next morning you wake up feeling more alive than ever.