An Open Letter to the Girl Who Smells Like Mayonnaise

Mayonnaise Girl

Dear Mayonnaise Girl,

I knew from the moment you first sat next to me that you had mayonnaise somewhere on you. I figured it was only for that one class. “Maybe she’s holding a jar for a friend,” I thought to myself. “Maybe she slipped and fell into a mayonnaise vat on her way to class.” None of my theories held up, however, as you came to the next class smelling exactly the same.

This opened up a whole new world of questions for me. Are you using mayonnaise as a moisturizer? Hair gel? And why do you keep sitting next to me? A few weeks ago, I purposely sat in between two other people, yet somehow, four minutes into class, I smelled that smell, looked to my right, and saw you sitting there as if nothing unusual was afoot. Is this whole thing an attempt to seduce me? Because even if I weren’t gay, it probably wouldn’t work.

As weeks passed and we fell into certain patterns, a few things became obvious. For one, you didn’t just smell like mayonnaise: you embodied it. Two, you clearly didn’t mind having the aura of a deviled egg. And three, there are far worse things a person can do than give off the vibe of the world’s most repulsive condiment.

What I need you to know first is that it’s okay to smell like mayonnaise. We all need our own distinguishing feature.

But what’s not okay is your tendency to inexplicably snort in the middle of lectures, to read through episode-by-episode synopses of American Pickers every class, to pop a prepackaged corndog into your mouth at precisely 9:15am every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Your stench could be explained in any number of ways, but no human being should be able to successfully down an entire breaded tube of meat that early in the morning. If it makes me sick to watch you out of the corner of my eye, how can you sit through the actual act without flinching?

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s a culture thing. Or maybe you, Mayonnaise Girl, will forever remain an enigma.