I was under the impression that men are obsessed with their cars. I thought they like to keep their ride spotless, visit the wash on the regular, and shine their wheels 'til they can see their reflection.
I thought this was standard male behavior. I thought that this was the one thing that you could count on a man for.
It was while under this impression that I was shocked to find it to be completely untrue.
Have you ever smelled dead rodents, rotten sauerkraut and sweaty jock straps blended together? I haven't either, not technically, but if I was to describe the smell that came from his car, that would be it.
I am talking a smell so obviously foul that it's a wonder the man inside could even breathe. This was the car that I was expected to get into.
I try to be a good sport about situations. This was the first time I was meeting him and I wanted to be nice. So when I sat down in that car... in that raunchy, disgusting, shit-scented car, I was on my best behavior.
The first words out of my mouth should have been "Dude, what the fuck died in here?! Can't you smell that?!" Instead I decided to hold my breath.
Turns out, I am not good at holding my breath for more than a few seconds. So when that plan failed, I went for the next best option... rolling down the window.
Turns out, the window didn't roll down all the way.
As far as I saw it, I had two options. I could say "Dude, what the fuck died in here?! Can't you smell that?!" like I was dying to or I could move as close as possible to the semi-rolled-down window and try to remain polite.
That's what I did. I leaned into the door, propping my chin up on the window and started gasping for air.
We drove down the street with the top half of my head hanging out of that window. My hair was toast by the time we arrived at our destination, I was sick to my stomach, and he was still clueless.
During the entire date all I could think about was having to get back into that damn car. The mere thought of it made me gag! Could I make a run for it? Could I sneak out and slash his tires so we would be forced to find other transportation? No, no... I couldn't do that but I had to get home somehow. I gave up and just repeated my behavior from the ride there on the ride back.
When we pulled into my driveway I was nearly dead from the toxic fumes. I figured that in my last breath I should say something to him to help avoid future embarrassment. I racked my brain for the most tactful way to tell him that his car was a death trap.
Turns out, I am a stranger to tact and I blurted out, "Dude, what the fuck died in here?! Can't you smell that?!" He stared at me in shock. I followed it up with "Dude! Some. Thing. Died. In. Here! What the fuck is it and why can't you smell it?!" Still he stared.
I jumped out of the car without much of a goodbye. I went into my house and took a shower. I may or may not have even snorted some baby powder to get the smell out of my nose. A few weeks later he texted me and wanted to go out again. Before I could answer he said, "And don't worry... I have my mom's car this time."
No, not "Oh don't worry, I found the source of the putrid stench and took care of it." No, not even a "By the way I am sorry I almost killed you last time, but I found a way to release the beast."
Needless to say I never saw him again, but I've often wondered what the fuck DID die in there and why couldn't he smell it?! And why.... for the love of anything holy did he think it was OKAY to pick someone up in that car?!
Advice of the day: Keep it clean, man... keep it clean!