A NOSE FOR TROUBLE
DMaybe we can sniff out great abs, good genes, relatives, money and child-bearing hips too
INNER parties ignite a lot of things; conversations, arguments, ideas for books, love affairs, hate affairs, divorces, even food poisoning (I’ll never eat duck again). They’ve also sparked a few columns over the years, this being one of them.
My author-friend, Diane, lives with one foot in real life and the other in fiction. She seeps stories and interesting tidbits. At a dinner party recently, she told me about the Vomero-nasal Receptor. I misheard and thought she said Venereal-nasal Receptor, which led to 10 minutes of weird and inappropriate dinner-time conversation.
Later I jumped on the Google machine to see if Diane was having a laugh, but it’s really a thing. The Vomero-nasal Receptor (VNR) is a relatively recently discovered organ in the human body. I’d understand if they’d discovered a new species of ant, or fern, but you don’t really expect a new human sex organ at this stage — I thought everything in our bodies was already present and accounted for. In scientists’ defence, they say the VNR is deceptively hard to find, even though it’s been right under our noses the whole time.
We’ve always known that animals and even a few plants have VNRs. It detects odourless molecules which trigger anything from happiness to fear and, most interestingly, sexual attraction. It’s why dogs sniff each other’s butts. And how pheromones in a boar’s saliva cause nearby sows to go into mating position. Also, voles without VNRs can’t tell the difference between boy and girl voles. And female moths produce a pheromone that makes male moths come flying from miles away. I once flew to Durban to go on a date. Is that the same thing?
As recently as 1990, physiologists got up the noses of hundreds of people, and found two small pits leading to a tube lined with very unusual nerve cells. Much like in some animals, these appear to carry messages to the part of our brains that coordinate emotions and our sexy-times muscles.
One theory for the existence of the VNR in humans is that it’s responsible for making you to want to jump the bones of a good genetic match, or be repelled by a bad genetic match, or a first cousin. The VNR gives us a sixth sense, or what I like to think of as a “sexth sense”. It’s nature’s way of helping us make sexual decisions that will benefit the human race in the long run, instead of just making sexual decisions that will benefit our genitals for three to 12 minutes. Eighteen hours if you’re married to Sting.
You always hear that people and animals can smell fear, but maybe we can sniff out great abs, good genes, relatives, money and child- bearing hips too. It’s why some men smell like candy and Prada and clean sheets to us, and why others smell like disappointment, tears and fruit flies. It’s also why humans can identify the smell of clothes that belong to a sexual partner. And why your girlfriend nicks your favourite shirt to sleep in. Although it’s probably not the reason some men like to wear women’s knickers and bras.
Scientists don’t seem able to agree on the validity of this theory. Some dismiss it with ridicule; others believe it so wholeheartedly they state it as fact. Personally, my jury is out. While the theory certainly makes evolutionary sense, the VNR is clearly fallible because the wrong people seem to procreate all the time. How else did we end up with Zuma, Mugabe and the CEO of Eskom?
But if it is true, do problematic sinuses affect a person’s ability to pick a suitable genetic mate? And what if Mr or Miss right wears too much Issey Miyake, and that throws you off their scent? Also, should we avoid picking a sexual partner during flu season? I suppose there is one way to find out. It’s summer time and my nose is clear, so I think I’ll put my Vemeronasal receptor to the test and go sniff out some fun, sexy times. I’ll smell you all later. LS