Can you *not* sniff me please? Thanks.

I'm lucky enough to work in one of those offices that is open 24 hours a day (no, I don't work at a 7-11, I would surely be fired on my first day for thieving Slurpees and fashion glossies) which sounds horrible, but gives me the opportunity to keep my ungodly hours at 7am to 4 (or 5) pm. Coming in earlier means dealing with fewer people, as most don't stroll in until 9 or 10 and I'm generally able to get a lot of my work done in the wee hours of the morn. Occasionally, however, this means my path will cross with a man leaving his night shift who, (putting it delicately) creeps me the hell out. Perhaps it's because he reminds me of a child molester on CSI, perhaps it's because I've seen him in sweat pants at work, perhaps he's just a nice guy who smiles a lot and I'm just an uberbitch with an overactive imagination who judges people too easily... most likely it's all of the above. Despite my general ::shudder::ing reaction when I'm caught with this man in the elevator, he has only ever been nice and being the product of two unshakably diplomatic parents, I am always polite in return.

Last week after an awkward elevator encounter, Disconcerting Guy followed me into the kitchen when I went to gourmet up some microwave oatmeal and coffee sludge. As it turns out, I am not able to control the universe with my focused brain power, because instead of turning around and leaving me to my breakfast-making, Disconcerting Guy leaned up against the counter and stared.

"Hey," Disconcerting Guy said. "What perfume do you wear?"

::So awkward pause:: "Um. Yves Saint Laurent's Parisienne."

"Oh, yeah!" (I'm sorry, sweatpants wearing Disconcerting Guy, you're familiar with YSL?) "Well, you've left it lingering in the elevator a few times."

"Uh." I said intelligently, clearly recovering from this awkward situation like a seasoned journalist. "Sorry...?"

"No, it's nice. I was just wondering. I'll have to get some for my ::mumble mumble::."

Wife? Ex-wife? Daughter? Person you keep in a secret basement room? I didn't know what else to do, so I squeaked out a tense "Heh. Thanks." and walked out of the kitchen, coffee and oatmeal left behind.

I had thought (re: hoped) that this would be the end of all conversations involving Disconcerting Guy smelling me, but today I was proven wrong again. It amazes me how often I am actually wrong, given that I am from a family where women are always right.

"That's a different one today!" Disconcerting Guy grinned at me outside the elevator.

"Uh. What?"

"What perfume are you wearing?" Oh my God. Please do not lean in like you are about to sniff me.

He did.

"Versace's Versense."

And then I ran (no seriously, RAN) straight to my office and closed the door, shuddering the whole time. I feel like I need a shower. Or a drink. Or more logically, a drink in the shower. Sigh. 7 hours to go.