As I’ve noted before: If vagina was on the menu at a deli it probably wouldn’t be a top seller. But because it is not a sandwich, but rather a woman’s sacred skin sanctuary (FGâ„¢), it must always be viewed and appreciated in that context.
Your vagina smells like crap to you because it holds no extended meaning. You’re smelling it, and comparing it to, say, tulips or a scratch and sniff strawberry sticker. You’re thinking, “Hm, fishy, sour, salty, organic tang, this isn’t so hot. Someone pass me the Febreeze, please.”
But your man takes one whiff of you and pops a circuit. When his nose inhales even the faintest scent of your crotch it transcends into the world of erotic for him. It’s part Pavlovian response, part biological reaction and part good old fashioned kink at work.
If I’m not mistaken, soldiers, in centuries past, would go off into battle with a pair of their lady’s underwear among their meager belongings. No, not on them, but stashed away next to their love letters and… iPod minis. They did this so that in their darkest moments of despair they cold sniff their women’s vag soiled undies and perk up. It served to reinvigorate them. Sort like an emotional asthma inhaler.
Remember, smell, of all the senses, is considered the most powerful and alluring. It circumvents the mind and goes straight to the heart…and crotch in this instance. I wouldn’t worry about why your man (or most men) are hounds for a lady’s scent, I’d just be happy that nature’s odor does the trick.