Dearest Loved Ones,
Your perfume is killing me. I mean it almost literally.
It’s also affecting our friendship. I can’t hug you, and so you might have noticed my stepping back when we meet up.
I can’t risk dining with you in a confined space and so you might have noticed I’ve been suggesting we meet for a walk instead.
Actually, I probably haven’t always been so subtle. I’ve probably hurt your feelings a bit. This is because perfume, for me, is like a whack in the noggin; I strike out to protect myself.
I’m so, so, so sorry.