Thursday, April 20, 2006
... or why you can't treat your guy friends exactly like your girl friends.
The Star and I were headed over to Zibibbo to meet a friend for dinner. In my girliest moment in months, I was putting on makeup in the car. (It's not that I don't wear makeup, but applying it is a very private thing. For whatever reason, that is its own intimacy level for me.)
At the corner of Marsh and Middlefield, I swept DiorShow mascara on to my right eye. At the Middlefield and Ravenswood stoplight, I finished with my left. The Star politely said that it "made a big difference," which it does - the stuff is great - but I know he's full of crap because he recently exclaimed "Wait, you wear glasses???" when I wear glasses 99% of the time. Since he was trying, I decided to treat him like a girl friend: I told him that the mascara smelled really nice, and made him smell it. He said, and I quote, "But someone would have to be kissing your eye bags in order to smell it."
He's a charmer, that one.
I was too stunned to explain that mascara scent is often used as an indicator: when the smell wears off, it's time to replace your mascara. Also, I think manufacturers add a scent to make me (the consumer) happy - make-up is largely about what women want and like (not the male(s) the Star seems to assume are the ultimate target.)
Posted by maisnon at 1:15 AM