What began as light, casual chatting quickly turned into long conversations that lasted well past midnight. We shared the same humor, laughed at the same things, and connected in a way that felt natural and easy. He came across as genuine—attentive, kind, and effortless to talk to.
After a few weeks, we decided to meet in person.
That day, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. I changed outfits more than once, checked the mirror too many times, and reminded myself it was just coffee—nothing serious.
When I saw him outside the café, I relaxed right away. He looked just like his photos—friendly smile, well put together, quietly respectful. It felt promising.
Then I noticed something.
His scent reached me almost immediately. It wasn’t unpleasant—just very strong. Overpowering, even. I couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it filled the space between us.
I tried to ignore it.
We sat down, ordered drinks, and the conversation flowed just like before. He was engaging, thoughtful, and easy to be around. But every time he leaned in or shifted closer, that heavy scent pulled my attention away.
I kept telling myself not to overthink it. It was just a smell. Still, it lingered.
By the end of the date, I felt it was better to be honest than quietly judge. With a small smile, I asked, “Can I ask what cologne you’re wearing? It’s a bit strong.”
He laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Oh no… is it too much?”
“Just a little,” I replied gently.
He rubbed his neck and admitted, “I always worry I won’t smell fresh enough. I’d rather use too much than too little. I guess I overdid it tonight.”
And just like that, everything shifted.
What I had almost labeled a dealbreaker wasn’t carelessness or ego—it was nervousness. It was someone trying a little too hard to make a good impression.
And somehow, that made it feel a lot more human… even a little endearing.