There are in our existence spots of time, / That with distinct pre-eminence retain a renovating virtue, whence... our minds /Are nourished and invisibly repaired; / A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced, /That penetrates, enables us to mount, /When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen. -- William Wordsworth
...and the stench of his zandu balm assailed my senses and I was in a quandary whether I should smile and say "hi sweetie, good to see you," or if I should give into my immediate reflexes and simply hold my nose tight to protect my olfactory buds lest I should swoon into senselessness.
He explained that he had come fresh from the orthopedic who had spent a good half hour rubbing something like Zandu balm into his aching lower back..
hm-m-m-.... Plausible explanation but something in the romance seemed to suddenly wilt. The evening suddenly lost its bright orange glow and the sun sank quietly and unobtrusively into the western horizon.
For me the evening was over. Zandu balm had scored its victory over my passion.