Comic. Tragic. Anosmic.

Story Sent in by Kathleen:

Will and I were at dinner on our first date at an outdoor cafe on a summer night. He had a small, blue spray bottle with him, and would spritz himself with it every few minutes.

"It's to cool me down," he explained. It wasn't an especially hot evening, but if that's what kept him comfortable, then that was fine.

We were in the middle of a decent conversation when he asked, "Do you smell farts?"

Instinctively, I sniffed the air. Then, I held my breath. "No. Do you?"

He said, "Not right now, I mean, ever. I've never, ever smelled a fart."

"Lucky you," I said, wondering what brought on the topic.

He spritzed himself with the bottle. "Can you describe it to me? What do they smell like?"

I wondered at why he chose me, of all the people in his lifetime, to describe such a thing to him, and in all situations, why on a date.

He continued, "I think it's a medical condition. I can smell things like the food, the street, and your musk, but when people around me have complained about fart smells, I can't smell a thing that would cause such a disturbed reaction."

I was approaching a disturbed reaction, myself. Still, I played along and said, "Like rotten eggs. Can we move on?"

"Eww!" he said, making a face, then spritzed himself again, "Gross! No wonder people get so freaked out by them."

Desperate to move away from this talk, I said, "At least the food smells good."

He sprayed himself with his bottle again. His face was dripping wet. "But in a few hours, it'll fart out of us, and then it won't smell good. Like rotten eggs. What's the medical condition where you can't smell?"

He sprayed more water onto himself. All this flatulence talk, his soaked face, and the heat were making my head swim. I said, "Anosmia. But I don't think there's such a thing as just tuning out one smell."

He grinned, then leaned to one side, then farted. He said, "Guarantee you, I won't smell a thing."

"That's amazing," I said.

What was amazing was that I was still out to dinner with this guy. I hurried us to a hasty close. He definitely noticed and spent the rest of dinner trying to be extra-nice to me and insisted on picking up the tab, take me wherever I wanted, etc. I thanked him for dinner, went on my way, and stopped dating for a while after that.


  1. Sounds like he has a fetish and was trying to steer the conversation toward it.

    Farts are hilarious, farts are not sexy.

  2. It wasn't an especially hot evening, but the heat made your head swim? Haha, okay.

  3. Sorry, I know a lot of people and not one would know the word "Anosmia" off the top of their head.

    I don't buy it.

    1. I knew it off the top of my head. Now you know two people.

    2. I knew it too. If it weren't for the spray bottle, I'd agree with the fetish thing. it seems more like he was trying to be weird.

  4. I actually read an article once about a biologist who is unable to smell skunk spray. He was sent out to do some research, got sprayed for the first time and wondered what the big deal was about, and then was very confused by everyone's reactions when he returned to the office. Probably pretty rare but maybe this guy can't smell certain chemical scents?

    1. so nobody thinks that spritzing your self after every sentience weird at all?
      weirdo red flag right there

  5. Anosmia for specific smells is definitely a real thing. There are also people who can't distinguish between certain smells. My Organic Chemistry professor couldn't smell any difference between spearmint and caraway.

    1. A common one is...um...the aftereffect of asparagus. Many people can smell it (including me and my father); many cannot (such as my mother). Apparently it's genetically determined in some way.

  6. Some people actually do have one or more things they can't smell. Take cilantro for instance. I don't have the gene required to smell that...


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.