The four of us sat shoulder to shoulder on a bench that was really meant for two, at the foot of the white-marble staircase that the club was infamous for. The elevator doors to the left of us opened and a sea of good-looking and exquisitely dressed Hollywood types spilled out in our direction.
“Everyone looks so nice,” said Stephanie in a way that sounded like a comparison, not a compliment.
“That was Kofi Siriboe upstairs that I almost ran over,” said Deshawn with sad eyes and slumped shoulders.
“Who?” asked Stephanie as she continued to stare at the elevator.
“Queen Sugar, the movie Girls Trip?” quizzed Deshawn.
Stephanie looked at her with a blank expression.
“Right, right, I know of him,” said Courtney as she adjusted her glasses, which suddenly would not sit still on her face.
“Shan?” said Deshawn in a way that made it very clear what she was about to ask. “Is it okay if I don’t do this part?”
“We’re already here, we’re already halfway done, so we’re all doing this. Besides, you’re doing so well, Deshawn: you were holding a long conversation with two dudes at once and you almost made out with Kofi.”
“I almost head-butted him,” she corrected.
I smiled and winked. “This is going to be fun. Don’t look at it like you have to do something but think of it like you’ve got something cool to give?”
“My vagina juice?” Deshawn asked.
“Yes but no. The fluid is your secret weapon. I’m talking about the experience of getting to know you. That’s what you’re giving. That’s your gift.” I clapped. “All right, let’s go through our job perks—run ’em off! What do you have to offer?”
Stephanie and Deshawn instantly looked at Courtney with the letters SOS on their faces. Courtney accepted, sat up straighter and adjusted her glasses one more time. “Okay, everyone including parents absolutely love me, I can make you melt in my hands, I know how to make people feel incredibly special in my presence and what was my last one?”
“People are gonna wanna know what your lips taste like, right?” answered Stephanie.
“Yes!” Courtney exclaimed with a smile.
“Okay, so,” said Stephanie, sensing she had to go next. “I am an excellent listener, I sound like a phone sex operator, I’m a great cook, I have a great body and I fight for causes I believe in.”
Courtney and I high-fived Stephanie, then fixed our gaze on Deshawn.
“You make good eggs, remember?” said Courtney.
“Yes, right,” began Deshawn. “So I make excellent scrambled eggs with cheese, I have a strong faith in God, I am really good at giving gifts, um, I am charismatic and I, uh, I give good blow jobs or at least I used to before my braces.”
She smiled with a full mouth of joy-filled metal and we all laughed until the bench shook. The elevator doors opened again and a fresh batch of twenty- and thirtysomethings entered the club.
“All right, we ready to do this?” I said as I wiggled free.
When we got to the bathroom Courtney put her hand on my shoulder and forced me to face her straight on. “Okay, wait, how are we supposed to do this?”
I instructed them to wash their hands, get in a stall and then move their finger around their vaginal opening. The goal was to get a new sample from the Bartholin’s glands, which are the size of a pea but play a large role in vaginal lubrication. Once they got a good amount of wetness, they could rub it on the neck, collarbone and wrists.
“Why wrists?” asked Courtney.
I waved my hands around as though I were talking then moved in to hug her with my arms outstretched. She nodded then disappeared into a stall. I stood there smiling encouragingly until the other two followed her lead. I took up the last stall then took my pants down. One for all and all for one.
We left the bathroom silently and headed back toward the stairs. Just before we embarked on our experiment, I turned toward the three of them. “How do we feel?”
“Sticky,” said Deshawn.
I stared at her, unamused. “You’re supposed to say intriguing and confident.”
“Okay, I’m confident I’m sticky,” she volleyed back.
I turned and led the way up the stairs. I paused again when we got to the top so I could issue one final pep talk but Deshawn, Courtney and Stephanie walked right past me and disappeared into the crowded room with their backs arched and arms swinging. I went back to the bar to see if my friends were still there—and they were, just drunker.
“We need to hang out more,” said one, leaning in to my neck. At first, I thought this was for support but, then she lingered and I wondered if it were something more. “I was just thinking about my friends who are always supportive of me and it’s you. You and Jared, I fucking love him too . . .”
She buried her face in my neck then continued to confess her gratitude in the long-winded way that only a drunk person would.
After a lengthy while, I recognized this conversation was not going to end by itself, so I pushed back to make some space between us. “Let me catch up later, I gotta go look for my girls.”
She moved closer, nudged my face with her chin and resumed her place at the nook of my neck. “They’re right there.”
I turned to see Deshawn, Stephanie and Courtney staring at us with their mouths open. Ten minutes later we stood at the valet desk and waited for my car to pull up.
Courtney turned toward me with the biggest smile. “If I didn’t see that girl basically sucking on your neck for, like, five minutes, I would not have believed this thing worked.”
“How did it work for you guys?” I asked.
Courtney said they walked onto the balcony and within minutes they all got swept up in conversation. She noted that people seemed to be leaning extra close but it was a little noisy, so it could have been because of that. I also explained that my friend’s extra-closeness could have been attributed to alcohol, but regardless of if we got a conclusive answer or not, I was insanely proud of them for completing this challenge.
The car pulled up and we all piled in. As we exited the parking lot and picked up speed, Stephanie let down her window and pressed her face into the night. She hadn’t said much all evening.
I glanced over my shoulder to check up on Deshawn who had been vocal about her hang-ups with this experiment. “There’s wipes in my bag if you wanna clean yourself off.”
Deshawn was staring at the billboards lining Sunset Boulevard. She shook her head and replied, “I’m all right actually.”
“Anyone else?” I asked.
“Not me,” said Courtney. “I’m about to go see about a boy.”
“And what boy is this?”
“I don’t know yet, that’s what I’m about to go see. And why not have an extra lil boost?” She tapped her pelvic area and I laughed until the wind took my breath away.
The next day I texted Stephanie to see how she was doing after last night. I really wanted to help all the women in any way possible, but I was unsure how effective any of the teachings had been for her in particular. Courtney had been going on ample dates, Maya had come out of her shell tremendously, Pricilla was already dating a high-interest playmate and Deshawn had been a rock star during the experiments—all of them had breakout moments of success, except Steph. But as outlined earlier, Stephanie was one of those people who read countless self-help books about greatness, but still hadn’t stepped up and embraced her own.
I’m good. I’m at an event and I’m like feeling so awkward. I’m like should I make a quick trip for some vaginal juice Lol.
I sent back the water drop symbol.
She replied, Lol we’ll see.
Conclusion
Vaginal fluids, especially around ovulation, but really any time you want to feel an extra boost of confidence, can serve as a love potion. Here’s why: I’m often asked to confirm or deny the myth that eating an excessive amount of pineapples will make someone taste better during oral sex. My response is,
if you think it makes you taste better then it absolutely works. Similarly, regardless of if vaginal pheromones truly make a person irresistible or not, the fact that you think it does, will cause you to act in a bolder, more confident manner. There are no health risks for others and unless you suspect you may have bacterial vaginosis, it will not make you smell bad. I’ve used this technique countless times in the past ten years and have had mixed results: sometimes people are flocking to me, sometimes I don’t notice a difference. So while I’m not sure how effective this experiment is, I am certain that every single time I employ it, it makes me feel like an enchanted goddess with a delicious secret.
EXPERIMENT THREE
* * *
Don(u)t you want my bacon?
QUESTION
Is there one perfume that is more seductive than its competitors?
HYPOTHESIS
If I test out four different scents that claim to be the most powerful seducers, then I can determine which milkshake actually brings all the boys (or girls) to the yard.
RESEARCH
The smell of donuts and licorice increased arousal in more than 30 percent of men studied by the Smell & Taste Treatment and Research Foundation.4
Bupa revealed a list of the things that make people feel good. The smell of bacon was more popular than exercise or receiving a massage.5
Dr. Alan Hirsch of the Smell & Taste Treatment and Research Foundation conducted studies that showed fresh-smelling clothes may have a positive affect on how others perceive them. “This may be due to olfactory-evoked nostalgia, which makes people feel safe and secure, and may even work on a more primal, subliminal level, since these odors harken primal memories,” he said.6
APPARATUS
Four women will attend a couple of social events, each wearing a different signature scent: a high-end perfume, laundry spray, jelly-donut mist and bacon oil. They will randomly select participants to smell them all and in the end, they will tally up the results to determine which scent was the victor.
HOW TO DRAW A CONCLUSION
Tally which scent was preferred by those surveyed.
* * *
Have a random-ass shopping list? Amazon is your best friend. I ordered my personal favorite perfume, Untold by Elizabeth Arden, then found three separate companies that claimed to have captured laundry, donuts and bacon in a bottle. Add to cart.
That weekend I planned to execute the smell experiment but only Maya and Courtney were available; Deshawn was away in London, Stephanie had her sister in town and Pricilla had her son. That left us with one smell on the chopping block, and I couldn’t have that. I decided to go back and comb through my original list of applicants for a fantastic fourth so we could get this experiment cracking Destiny’s-Child–style (circa ’98. Not 2006.).
It didn’t take me long to land on Alana, a thirty-one-year-old producer and lesbian who had confessed during our interviews that she had a problem talking to women she was interested in. I thought today could be excellent practice for her, but also for Maya, who identified as queer but had never dated or flirted with a woman. So, I planned for us to go to a women’s networking event in downtown Los Angeles called Girl Boss, then to the DTLA Proud Festival.
We all met at my apartment at 5 P.M., unperfumed and uncreamed so that the smell of our products wouldn’t tamper with the results. I introduced everyone to Alana then dove in with the million-dollar question: “Who volunteers to smell like bacon?”
Courtney reluctantly raised her hand, which was kind of her since Maya was vegan and Alana was the new girl. I handed her the bacon ointment and unscented cream, since scents stick better to moisturized skin. She then slathered it on her pulse points because the warmth of the body helps project the scent more: inside her wrist, elbow, under the neck and behind the neck. She also applied some to her shoulders, clothes and hair to create a smell dome. When she was done, despite my best intentions to remain neutral, I had to admit that she smelled like roasted garbage. Correction: she smelled like a smoky roasted garbage can that happened to be filled with bacon. Alana chose jelly donut, Maya asked for fresh laundry, which left me with my favorite perfume.
We piled into my car, then immediately I had to take the top down because our clashing scents were insufferable.
As soon as we could breathe again Maya yelled over the wind. “So I went on my first, like, real date yesterday.”
Courtney and I burst into hoots, claps and small dance moves. Alana sat still in confusion.
“I met him on OkCupid, he was a skater and really cute,” she began.
“How cute?” asked Courtney.
She showed us his photo and even Alana nodded in approval.
“It honestly went surprisingly decent. I was pretty relaxed, and I made a lot of jokes that he laughed at. In the end he asked to see me again, but I don’t know if I’m really interested or ready for that.”
It wasn’t remotely surprising to me that the date had gone well. Of late, Maya had been on fire: she cracked jokes, flexed her intellectual guns and even though she still had the same hipster style, gone were the days of lizard clips.
We pulled up to our first location, reapplied our scents, then headed up to the rooftop mixer. Within minutes of our arrival, a woman who recognized me from YouTube beckoned for me to join her group. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded and engaged in a full-on business proposition from her and her friends. I entertained their conversation for a few minutes until a wave of panic washed over me: Where were the others?! The last time Maya attended a party with me was the disastrous Crown app launch; I flashed back to her uneasy expressions from that night, then excused myself with urgency. I searched for my team in the usual reclusive hangouts: the corners, the couches and the bathroom. I was about to text them but then I spotted Courtney by the pool holding a conversation and then Maya a few feet from her with an entirely different group. I exhaled and walked over to them. Maya looked over her shoulder, smiled then introduced me to her two new companions. I stood in awe and watched nervous Maya hold a confident conversation with two beautiful women. A beat later I remembered why we were all there, so I seized the opportunity to kick off the experiment.
“Hey, do you guys mind if I ask you something? We went to a perfume store just before this and tried on all these different brands. Can you smell us and let us know which one you like best?”
And that was the line we used all night long. We took turns delivering it and although Maya was initially reluctant when she had to do the approach, she quickly got in the groove. We spoke to over fifty people that night and not one person turned our proposition down because just like Nina and JT said, people love to give their opinion—never forget that.
After we circulated the rooftop, we decided to head to the next location. We stood by the elevators and discussed how shocked we were by the results; somehow my perfume was in last and Courtney’s bacon was tied for second! Another foursome of women walked up and waited with us.
Maya leaned in close to me. “I love that woman’s blue suit.”
It looked like something out of Boogie Nights, exactly the kind of outfit Maya would love. “So why don’t you tell her?”
She widened her eyes. We all got on the elevator together then started our descent. I stared down Maya and gave her the classic girl-get-in-there look until she relented and shifted in blue lightning’s direction.
“I absolutely love your suit,” Maya said slowly while she triangled the woman.
The woman looked up and beamed. “Well, thank you, I love your outfit too.”
“Hey,” Courtney interjected. “Would y’all mind smelling us?”
When we got to the DTLA Proud Festival, I immediately cringed at my own ignorance: the festival was pretty much 80 percent gay men. I hadn’t been to many of these events before and thought there would be a larger lesbian crowd. Alana assured me that this was an almost unavoidable mistake since gay men dominated the LGBQT+ scene. There were no lesbian bars, just lesbian nights, and
even Pride Parades tended to be a sausage fest.
Nonetheless we made the most of the night and asked everyone within tapping distance for their take. Also, finding women didn’t prove to be that difficult but finding a way out of the conversations with them did, which considering Alana’s statement made perfect sense.
“I love your hair and your face and your clothes,” said a drunk woman in adorable glasses who kept hitting on Maya despite her attempts to slide away. Unsurprisingly, that same woman chose “laundry” as her favorite scent.
Conclusion
The scent of fresh laundry was indisputably the victor: most people loved it and if they didn’t select it, they still liked it. Jelly donut and perfume tied for second, but the difference was those who chose the donut were obsessed. And finally, although bacon did come in last, there were still six people who were madly drawn to it. We noted that the more stereotypically masculine the man (security guard, muscleman and construction worker) the more likely they were to favor bacon. Maya took fresh laundry home, which she more than deserved, so I immediately headed back to Amazon and ordered one for myself. If you’re interested it’s called CLEAN, Fresh Laundry. In light of my tendency not to naturally smell the freshest, I think CLEAN balances me out nicely. Bonus, it’s gotten me compliments from Steve Harvey and soap opera royalty, Don Diamont.
EXPERIMENT FOUR
* * *
Hotcakes or sweet pie?
QUESTION
Which is more effective in attracting playmates, a sexy look or a good attitude?
HYPOTHESIS
If a group of women dress seductively but act standoffish for the first half of the night, then dress down but are friendly and outgoing the second half—we can assess which tactic is more attractive.
RESEARCH
Sometimes stereotypes are bad but for attractive people there is one stereotype known as the “what is beautiful is good” effect7 that works in their favor. Essentially attractive people frequently get the benefit of others assuming they have certain positive qualities (e.g. they are kind, intelligent, honest, competent, happy) just because of how they look. So perhaps just looking good will emit a warm energy.
The Game of Desire Page 20
