A few months ago I started talking to a guy over Facebook. I usually don't bother answering my Facebook messages, but he genuinely caught my attention. He made a really funny comment about one of my articles and I couldn't help but answer his message. You know what they say, if you can make a girl laugh, you can make her do anything.

To make it easier, let's call him NG. (Nice Guy)  

A quick scan through his photos - he looks cute. Not the type of guy I normally go for... I am usually attracted to well dressed, perfectly coiffed hunks. This guy was super laid back, dressed like my dad, had a ton of funny pictures and photos with friends. So I figured, "Great, he's sociable, people seem to like him, he's funny and normal looking. I'll give it a try."

We kept messaging each other back and forth for about two months. I was actually getting really excited every time my phone would ring and I would see his name pop up, "Yes! He messaged me!" He was witty, funny and easy to talk to. I was sharing everything that was going on in my life with him and he was totally cool about my drama, crazy stories and events. It seemed like we knew each other forever, so comforting.

Eventually, he took initiative and invited me out to dinner. "Finally!", I thought. I was already dying to see him, but was waiting for him to suggest it first. NG actually asked me what type of cuisine I prefer, so freaking thoughtful. I let him pick the restaurant nonetheless. Wanna know what he ended up choosing? The #1 restaurant in Montreal that I blogged about claiming it as most romantic spot to bring your date to. He actually took his time to scan through my articles and pick that spot. So. Freaking. Adorable. I was bragging to all my girlfriends at this point, "I'm going to meet my future husband, bitches!"

It's Thursday, the night we're supposed to meet each other. I'm nervous as fuck. NG texts me in the morning, "Have a beautiful day, see you tonight gorgeous!" Nothing else. Ugh, so stressful. Usually, we'd text back and forth all day, but that Thursday was different.

He asks me for my address to pick me up at night, but I decide that I don't want him to know where I live in case he turns out to be a creep. We agree to meet at the restaurant.

So here I am, driving to meet NG, the nicest guy I ever spoke to. I step inside the restaurant, he gets up from his chair to give me a hug, and boom! Turns out he's half my size. Dammit! He's really short. I think to myself, "It's ok, Nicole Kidman's dated short guys. I can do it too. He's nice, it's worth it." I sit down and awkward silence takes over. He was nervous, I felt it. His hands were shaking as he was trying to sip on his wine. Cute? Yes. Attractive? It wasn't.

Self-consciousness is not hot. He mentioned, "Wow, you're tall" at least five times during the night. Be confident, dammit! The more nervous he was getting, the more disinterested I was becoming. By the end of the night I knew I wasn't going to see him again.

Yes, he asked me about my family and my job and was genuinely interested in getting to know me. He didn't let me split the bill and was exceptionally courteous throughout the night. He also texted me right after our date saying, "I had the best time of my life! Not even kidding. When can I see you again?" Perfect, right? But I was completely over him at this point. I entertained the thought of giving him another chance, but then was like, "Nah, not feeling it."

Dear NG, I told you I was going to write about our date and you didn't mind. I want you to know that you're wonderful. Please don't take this post the wrong way if you're reading this.

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