Candles: Man’s Final Frontier
I had seen candles in our fraternity house quite often, but had never experienced its aroma at such a personal level. I thought it was weird. Yet a month later, my roommate and I had already built up our collection to a dozen strong.
As I walked into Paul’s room, the familiar smell of a Christmas tree invaded me immediately. Memories of cold December nights, presents under the tree, and warm glasses of hot chocolate swirled about in my mind, as I continued to breathe in the piney smell.
For a moment, I wasn’t a senior in college. I was a third-grader playing with his Legos in front of a roaring fireplace and his carefully selected Jeffrey Pine, while mother and father warmly watched on.
I came back to Earth.
“Is that…a candle?” I sputtered out.
“Yeah…”
“It smells wonderful. What’s the scent?”
“Pine Forest. What a classic.”
The candle intrigued me, but I wasn’t sold. Women lit candles, as it boosted estrogen levels. Men embraced their dank sock smell, which boosted testosterone levels. But a week later, as I picked up some groceries (read: chips and ramen) from Wal-Mart, I found myself in the candle section. Candles in every configuration lined the aisle. The debate raged on in my head, to candle or to man, but curiosity forced my hand. I snatched the nearest candle — Paradise Beach.
An hour later, I placed the candle atop the smoldering mess of my desk. I could only stare at it for now. I cupped my head in my hands, stood up, and paced. Then I reached for my lighter and lit the damn thing. I crossed my arms and glared at Paradise Beach as I waited for the wax to unleash its unholy fury against my dank sock smell.
Within minutes, Cancun, Punta Cana, Waikiki, and all the other beaches found their way into my dingy room. My desk crumbled into a fine sand, while my bed gave way to crashing waves. A rum-and-coke appeared in my hand, while board shorts replaced my J.Crew chinos. Even a cute bikini-ed native was sunbathing where my dresser used to be.
My roommate, finally finished with his linear algebra problem set, strolled into the room only to do a double take at our new Paradise Beach.
“WHOA! What’s that?!”
I had seen the power of the candle. It was instantaneous transport to foreign spaces. We held the keys to doors that opened up every aura and mood. It was the hammer-and-chisel of gods, as we could forge worlds with just a few candles in an enclosed space. Let there be a gentle, flickering light.
“That, is a mandle.”
We amassed a collection of a dozen or so candles. Pine, Country Garden, and Cotton would be our everyday go-to’s, the running backs of our collection. Rose, Watermelon, and Honeysuckle formed a trio to embolden encounters of a more intimate nature. Birthday Cake, Fresh-Baked Cookies, and Homemade Apple Pie cemented themselves as favorites to complement our late-night snacking. Vanilla, Lavendar, and Paradise Beach plugged any holes not filled with the other scents.
The soft, fluttering light of a candle and its gentle, soothing aroma brought an aura of zen to our shared room in an otherwise raucous fraternity house. Bangs and shouts would oft erupt from the rooms next door, but our candle lit on. Its consistency calmed us. The world has moved on to the Air Wick plug-in or Febreze aerosol spray, quick and easy “remedies” for an odorous stench. But they are sharp and combative, a sleeping pill for insomnia. Candles will always be dull and constructive, like meditation and exercise to lull one to sleep.
So men, think not of a loss in manliness from a candle propensity. Once you breathe in that sweet aroma, the debate becomes moot. Candles are neither feminine nor masculine. They just are. They do not exist in such a context, as they were born eons and eons ago, aiding our earliest ancestors in their quest for truth into the wee hours of the night. May you now share in that same quest, guided by the most golden of lights.
