Damien Galeone

As a rule, it’s never good when a person spends more than two seconds peering into a just used toilet. It’s even worse if they are sniffing; worse still if they are wearing a look that universally depicts confusion. And if that person standing above the toilet smells watermelon and roofer’s glue, then, well, Houston, we’ve got a problem.

I shall explain.

One of the only benefits to having no sense of smell is that you are spared the rotten smells that everyday life has to offer. So, I do not fear public bathrooms. The B Monster’s morning bunghole greetings do not disturb me with the obvious odor, but rather the fact that she thinks I’m her proctologist.

And as a short man in a city whose inhabitants embrace the use of public transport and the nonuse of deodorant, I should be in hell. But instead I stand between homeless men covered in their own waste, and beneath armpits that are soaked through. In a place which is married to the ideas of greasy foods, smoking in pubs, not cleaning beer splashed floors and not opening windows, I can deal better than other expats. With this disability that revokes so much pleasure from my life, I have clung to this anti-superhero inability to avoid assault from disgusting stenches.

But now, it seems that there is one thing I can smell: urine. And not just urine, but different, uh, flavored urine.

I first noticed this a while ago with asparagus. Everyone knows that asparagus pee gives off a strange odor, like some combination of cooked lentils and Harvey Keitel, but I was surprised when I could smell it. I used to eat asparagus just to be able to smell the urine afterwards, feeling for a short moment that I was normal. This ‘normal’ feeling being greatly dissipated by kneeling in front a toilet smelling my pee. I eventually stopped buying asparagus in fear of becoming a fetishist. And I already have so many.

But then, in the last months or so, I have noticed that I can smell other flavors (tee-hee) of urine. I have found that urine ala watermelon boasts a robust sweetness with hints of roofer’s glue. A post-run pee smells like roasted almonds combined with lemon snaps. Imagine the smell that would come from dumping a tub of paint thinner into the Le Brea Tar Pits and you have coffee urine. Beer urine doesn’t smell like anything, yet. Thank. God.

I have implored the heavens and all major and minor deities concerning the irony to my situation. Shouting things into my flat like: “You fucking prick(s), whoever you are, I can’t smell a girl’s neck, but I can smell watermelon piss?”

Then I figured that I should just get over it and expand my research. So I am now eating and drinking a wider assortment of foods and beverages. I’ve been trying things I normally don’t eat or drink, like honeydew, brie, German vodka, strawberry ice cream, and eggplant. I am hoping that these might produce some recognizable odor. And maybe by mixing and matching different items, I can produce a better smell, or a pleasant smell. Something I’m more used to, or something I miss, like girl’s necks and pizza bagels, or stinky pubs and underarms.