How do you get to know a perfume, a scent, actually? I mean... how exactly does that work? In interpersonal relationships one speaks of chemistry, which is right, of the fact that it functions, that something harmonizes, that one finds one another sympathetic, that one feels attracted to one another
But what about fragrances?
How do you get to know a fragrance, even love it? Is that possible at all - to love a fragrance?
Whatever it is, this here won't be a love story, hence the title.
The fragrance begins, like any friendship +: very surprising, very unexpected and very, very passionate and captivating. Surprising is the smell of plastic... like the smell of a brand-new life jacket on a modern speed yacht, which is full of pomp and luxury, which at first sight seems completely groundless and arrogant. At the same time, the sculpture also smells playful, like a pink flamingo in a decadent pool that belongs to an even more decadent villa on Ibiza. Ibiza, because party, because fun, because it is not a place you travel with your partner, but with your special girlfriend. The outfit is so strong and loud that it literally screams. At the latest now everyone around you notices that this 'good friend', who accompanies you, is probably more than just that.
The prelude won't let you go again so quickly... he stays, and stays, and stays. It's exciting, exciting, extraordinary.
After the friendship + already runs a few weeks (in this case a few hours, more precisely about two), first habits creep in. Undoubtedly, it remains exciting and the loud bang from the beginning is still very present and exciting, but now the first nuances of familiarity are added: Vanilla and tonka bean. In the beginning hardly noticeable, but meticulously clearer and clearer and louder at some point. Combined with the smell of brand-new plastic, this intimacy does not result in boredom, but remains an exciting adventure that seems impossible to hide from others. Even the attempt is futile.
The friendship + continues to experience a climb: after a few more weeks (3 to about 4 hours), as more and more familiarity creeps into the new passion, it begins at some point to become very cuddly and tender... the plastic-tonka-vanilla mixture is now joined by very supple leather, comfortable amber and at this point also a much more striking, sweeter vanilla note, which gives rise to romance and the first signs of infatuation. But that's ignored. At the moment (approx. after 4 hours) the smell of plastic disappears, from now on the cuddly leather and the very, very sweet vanilla dominate. Snuggle up on the sofa with the affair, yeah, okay, why not? It's so nice right now... it's not supposed to stop. This is exactly how it can and should remain - still a slight hint of the loud big bang of the beginning, still a little overwhelmed and yet the creeping familiarity and security. Nothing too much and nothing too little. Still loud, but still much more familiar - and yet you always discover something new, something unknown.
And now the beginning of the end begins to show on the horizon: the vanilla becomes sweeter and sweeter, more and more kitschy, more and more obtrusive, after a few weeks (approx. 5 hours) it displaces all excitement, all tension, all new territory.
In this passionate, obsessive friendship + I felt well and desired, now, after about 5 to 6 hours the sweet vanilla, the tonka bean and the cuddly leather begins to constrict me. Minutiae WhatsApp messages, SMS and comments on instagrams, dominant, loud narrowing, statements like 'we always belong together before' - didn't we just want something very loud and rousing fun? To the Gamer evening with the mates rings unannounced at the door, nevertheless, wants to belong so absolutely to me. Call me Bunny, Cuddly Bear or Sweety - and especially the latter. With their obtrusive, dominating and kitschy nature, everyone is now repressed, everyone takes a bite.
It'll be too much for me, we'll argue, the rags will fly. It's gonna get loud again. But not plastic sound but vanilla sound. Loves and hates equally. The sweet tears flow. She's running through the stairwell. Yell. Escape. Run into the dark road. Keep yelling. Run from the neighborhood. Still screaming. Run out of town. And keep screaming. A few weeks later (14 hours plus) it slowly gets quieter. I dare go out again. In me still clearly visible the traces of this passionate and tragic friendship +.
Will I ever forget her? Never.
Will I do it again? Yes.
Will friendship + ever become love? No, never
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