I Bought A Love Potion; Now What?

Can I actually attract men with the help of a liquid? (Other than beer.)
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Marci
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Can I actually attract men with the help of a liquid? (Other than beer.)

If my xoVain and xoJane articles were all videos, I could easily put together a pretty sweet sizzle reel of me saying I'm single. HAVE I MENTIONED I'M SINGLE? You guys, I'm single. Have been for a long-ass time.

I recently told my 2,000 closest Facebook friends that I experience human touch so infrequently that when it does happen, it's jarring. I'm not talking about sex; there's been plenty of that over the last seven years (except for that 13-month dry spell a while back). I'm talking tactile affection. Is adult-onset reactive attachment disorder a thing?

I don't think there's anything wrong with admitting that I get lonely sometimes. But anyone who knows me can tell you that my loneliness never morphs into desperation. I'm not going to be with someone I'm not attracted to because I'm tired of being alone.

In a similar vein, I've never believed in doing my hair and makeup in a way that might appeal more to men, or a specific man--that smacks of desperation to me, too.

For example, there was a really cute guy on okCupid that I was ready to message, but when I got to the end of his profile, it said "You should NOT message me if you are attached to lipstick" because it creeps him out. I did not message him.

Short of starting a tattoo sleeve, I'm really not sure how to make myself more alluring to guys in a not-self-compromising way when I'm commuting between home and work (because, let's be honest, that's the only time I'm not at home or work).

But when I was visiting Catbird for the second time in a month last weekend, I came across a love potion.

No, really, that's what it's called: Love Potion, by Isa's Restoratives.

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I'm not a believer in magic or superstition, but for some reason, I immediately wanted it. (Maybe I'm desperate after all?)

Under the brand's name and the product's name, the simple mixture was typed out: roses, hawthorne flowers, raw honey, brandy, spring water.

I was intrigued. I smelled it, and while it didn't have any of the notes I'm normally drawn to in a perfume, there was something comforting about it. I turned to Carla and asked her to smell it. She agreed that it was lovely and assured me it was not at all weird or sad that I wanted it.

So I bought it and decided I'd wear it on Tuesday (because Monday was a holiday--but I actually went to the dog park!).

And wear it I did. I applied it on my wrists, behind my ears, and my cleavage.

Of COURSE my cleavage. The world revolves around it.

Of COURSE my cleavage. The world revolves around it.

Men didn't fall out of their apartment windows as I walked to the subway station, nor did they flock to the train door closest to my seat so they could enter the car near me. I would've settled for someone smiling at me, but alas, the potion wasn't potioning.

By the time I got to the office, I couldn't even smell it on my own wrist anymore. Was it just that subtle? Did I waste $18? Is that a stupid question to be asked by someone who bought something claiming to be a love potion?

I looked up the product on Catbird's site, and there in the description was a sentence that wasn't on the bottle: "A drop or two or ten on your tongue sets the mood for love."

ON YOUR TONGUE.

Well, crap.

So, apparently it's used to sort of seduce someone who's already right there in front of your face. Like breath freshener, except not.

I guess I'll try it in its intended way when I get the opportunity, but I'm still working on getting the opportunity.

Can you guys recommend any subtle fragrances that draw people to you? I'm starting to feel like a leper. (Apologies to friends and family of lepers.)