I love everything about my husband. Who he is. How he acts. His cute smile. And yes, even the way he smells.

Unfortunately, an evil force has entered our lives, threatening  one of those very things: The Comic Book Shop.

You see, when I met my husband in college, one of his favorite pastimes was playing a card game called Magic The Gathering at a local comic book shop. He’s truly a pro at it and a certified judge. When we got married and moved back to our college town, the owner actually hired him on staff to be a coordinator of tournaments for the game. In fact, sometimes it seems like he’s seriously paid just to show up and play with the customers. And seriously, they come by the hoards. He’s organized events that are fairly huge for this comic book shop. One time the little store had 65 people show up. This past weekend, he helped host a staggered tournament over the course of three days….the turnout? Around 100 individual people.

Oh yes. I am proud of my man. And of course people show up just to play him. I mean who could say no to that face? But there’s multiple problems with this gig. The main one? The smell.

You see…something magical happens when my husband leaves for work on these special days. He leaves smelling like his normally clean and sexy self, and when he returns he smells terrible. In fact, the smell can only be described as what I’d assume sad, lonely, and maybe even a little bit scary men smell like.

It’s like…I finally understand what your dog goes through when you come home after playing with a friend’s dog somewhere else. It’s like “WHOAH BUDDY! Who have you been hanging out with?”

It’s like…the musty smell of unshowered men eating Doritos while crying over an episode of Doctor Who…if you can imagine that.

But, my dear wives, I have finally found the cure to this problem. While it’s true showering is the cure all for any bad B.O. your hubbies may face, sometimes you’re not afforded the amount of time it takes.

So when you’re in a crunch like I was this weekend when he came home and we had to immediately go out to dinner– grab a trusty container of Febreeze. Spray it in the hallway and yell, “GO!” and watch as your husband runs through it like a little kid hopping through a sprinkler during summer vacation. Two rounds of this should do it, though please be sure to inform your husband that he should hold his breath before running full speed into the mist.

I promise. No husbands were harmed in the making of this blog. In fact, he thought it was a fantastic idea. AND I’m pleased to note that I was able to enjoy our lovely dinner out on the town without the sent of strange comic book ogres creeping into my nose. After all, nothing kills romance like the smell of a Magic the Gathering tournament. Am I right, ladies?