When the email arrived this time, I decided to join them. After all, I'm in touch with my feminine side - I've been known to apply a touch of morning after face stuff once or twice and there's all sorts of depuffery potions available for blokes these days.
The heady mix of perfumes and oestrogen sent me reeling as I opened the door. A low murmur filled my ears, like a religious chant. Women I see every day were knocking into me with a glazed expression, as if a trance-inducing substance had been pumped through the air conditioning.
This was a passively hostile environment. No one said it but I knew I wasn't welcome. I felt as if I had gone into the visitors' enclosure at a football game.
The desire to vacate the room overwhelmed me, so I legged it, barging past the marching hordes as they filed into the room. My gentlemanly manners were forgotten. This was a matter of life and death, I had to get out before they drained my glands and used me as a perfume.
I once believed that to be a lone male in a room full of women would fulfil a fantasy. Well, I can tick that one off, and in doing so, it has become a nightmare. The mere hint of perfume is enough to give me flashbacks.
There are some places a chap must not go, ever.
The features department beauty sale is one of them.
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