According to research done by one of my professors (Martha McClintock – the woman who ‘discovered’ the woman living together menstruating together thing), being attracted to the smell of a guy means 1) your body is ready to conceive and/or 2) your genes go well together (and your body will try to convince you to conceive).
The implications of this are almost more than I can bear at this point. To be (very) clear, there is absolutely no danger of my falling into this biological quagmire, since (a) I think you’ve got to, uh, have sex to conceive (unless you’re the Virgin Mary, and we all know that I am not…) and (b) I think it would take an act of God to get around my chosen semi-permanent birth control implement even if I were to, uh, have sex. Putting aside my own lack of risk, though, I am rather worried for my friends who may be less responsible than I am when it comes to contraception and the dating of yummy-smelling guys. I mean, once you hit 32 or 33, it’s hard enough to find reasonably nice and attractive non-psychotic men who are actually interested in women their own age, and now we’ve got to worry that if we are too attracted to the way they smell that we’re going to be overcome with an uncontrollable urge to procreate irrationally?
I liked the world a whole lot better before people started analyzing things best left to mystery, magic, and chance. And yes, I do realize that 500 years ago someone was saying that about the radical notion that the Earth might — gasp! — not be the center of the universe. Clearly, though, my (and my friends’) dating and reproductive lives are much more important than debating heliocentrism. Galileo, after all, is so 1642.