When the dew covered dandelions are scattered amongst the field of green at the park, Spring and all its flavored scents have arrived. The smell of fresh cut lawns, mulch, and flowers are a reminder that the cold, depressing Winter has finally passed. On warm days, I like to sit at the park to take in the sights and smells. Some that walk by nod their head in my direction while others look elsewhere, disinterested in any type of communication. I often converse with the friendly minority that take a seat next to me.

One afternoon, while lost in my own thoughts, the girl sitting next to me asked, “What are you doing?”

“People watching,” I replied. “And maybe a little people sniffing.”

“People sniffing? I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“You know what they say, birds of a feather.”

She cocked her head and looked at me. Her brow furrowed, she appeared confused by my response.

“I guess you never heard that expression before. Don’t worry, you don’t smell like a bird.”

“That’s because I’m not a bird, silly,” she said.

She stood and started to walk away. After taking a few steps, she tossed her hair over a shoulder and looked back with a smile on her face.

“I should have asked for her phone number,” I thought.

A few minutes later, another girl sat beside me. With thoughts of the first conversation fresh in my mind, I leaned in and sniffed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Uh, I was sniffing you,” I said with a nervous smile.

“Sniffing me?” she said, upset by the admission.

“It’s just something I do.”

“Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit!”

“If it makes you feel any better, you smell good.”

“No, that doesn’t help. You need to keep your nose to yourself, ya perv.”

“It’s not like I shoved my head into your crotch and inhaled,” I said, surprised by her indignation.

When she stormed off, my eyes and nose trailed after her. If I smelled her crotch, I wondered whether she would have slapped or bitten me. Either one would have been preferred foreplay over being barked at.