Note: This is Part 10 of an 11-part series of short posts on what triggers memories of ex-lover B., culminating on October 11, 2014, the First Anniversary of when he kissed me goodbye. Literally. His kiss was a kiss-off. I have not seen him since.
“What do I wear in bed? Why, Chanel No. 5, of course” — attributed to Marilyn Monroe, 1960
That’s the only thing I have in common with the beautiful, iconic Marilyn. And I associate Chanel No. 5 with B. because that’s the fragrance I wore while I was his lover, off-and-on for 26 years. I’ve always used one scent for any lover I have taken: different lover, different perfume. Always. With B. it was the elegant, classic Chanel No. 5. He often commented how much he liked the way I smelled, and he knew it was the good stuff. I’d dab the eau du parfum on my pubic region and slather the body lotion between the cheeks of my ass and across my breasts, those areas where B.’s nose and tongue would always stray.
Since our break-up — one year ago tomorrow — the bottles of spray and luxuriant body lotion, the canister of scented body powder, were all relegated to the dark recesses of my bathroom cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind, out of smell? I can’t bear to throw out such expensive stuff but just a whiff brings me near to tears. And while walking through a department store cosmetics area I avoid the Chanel counter as though those overly-made-up gals were carrying Ebola.
I have a new lover. My current scent is Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue.
A former mistress (26 years, on-and-off) describes the good, the bad, and the ugly of her long-term affair. Conclusion: Affairs aren't necessarily destructive if kept in the correct perspective. Our experience enhanced BOTH our marriages.
That is, until his marriage ended and we began to love each other. When the affair morphed into a relationship, well, that's when it stopped being fun for me.
For 26 yrs we luxuriated in implicit Trust. When B. cheated on ME, it was the first time another person came into our relationship besides our respective spouses.
We have now irrevocably split.