My husband started to smell really bad… I mean, REEK.
I made an appointment for him with the urologist and decided to go with him for support. He went into the doctor’s office, and the doctor closed the door behind them.
Five minutes later, the doctor came out, and his face turned red when he saw me.
Doctor (barely holding back laughter):
“You might want to go in and see for yourself.”
Me:
“Doctor, what’s going on? Why are you laughing?”
Then my husband came out.
Him:
“Honey… I’m not sure how to say this… But I… accidentally shoved a garlic clove up there.”
I blinked.
“Up where, exactly?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around like the walls might collapse on him any second.
“You know… there.”
I stared at him.
“You inserted garlic. Into your… man-parts?”
He nodded sheepishly.
The doctor, still trying (and failing) not to laugh, added,
“He read somewhere online that garlic can cleanse toxins and boost testosterone. Unfortunately, that’s not how garlic works. At all.”
I slowly turned to my husband.
“So… the smell?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. Turns out garlic takes… a while to come out. And it comes out strong.”
I covered my face and burst out laughing.
“You were about to blame the dog, weren’t you?”
He shrugged.
“I considered it.”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Not a little giggle. I mean full-on, ugly snort-laughing in the urologist’s hallway while my garlic-scented husband stood there, red as a beet.
“I thought it would be like a natural detox,” he mumbled.
I wiped tears from my eyes. “Babe, that was garlic. Not a magic potion from Middle Earth!”
The doctor cleared his throat, clearly enjoying every second.
“I’ve seen a lot in this office—trust me—but this? This one’s going in the book.”
“What book?” my husband asked.
He grinned. “The Book of Stuff That’s Going to Make Me Retire Early.”
Back in the car, windows cracked wide open, I leaned over and kissed my very embarrassed, very pungent husband on the cheek.
“You know what?” I said. “You smell like a bad pizza, but at least you’re trying to stay healthy.”
He groaned. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, of course not,” I said, already pulling out my phone.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
“Just making a quick anonymous post,” I teased. “Something like: ‘My husband marinated himself in garlic thinking it would cure low energy. Now my house smells like an Italian restaurant that’s been cursed.’ Totally anonymous.”
He stared ahead, shaking his head. “I married a monster.”
I smiled and took his hand. “You married a woman who’s still laughing with you—even when you smell like spaghetti night gone wrong.”
He glanced over at me and smirked.
“Well… at least vampires won’t be a problem.”
One week later, I woke up to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and toast. He walked into the bedroom, holding a tray and wearing a shirt that said: “Ask Me About My Garlic Adventure.”
“I figured if I’m going to be famous,” he said, setting the tray down, “might as well lean into it.”
I looked at the tray. On it was a small wrapped box with a bow.
Inside?
A silver necklace with a garlic charm.
“Just in case,” he whispered. “You ever need to keep me in check.”
We both burst out laughing—and honestly? That necklace still makes me smile every time I wear it.
Because love smells weird sometimes.
But it’s still love.
