Yesterday, I realized I’m a perfume snob!!

I met a guy who was basically a God in our chats: he quoted Brodsky, sent photos of his homemade tiramisu, and clearly knew his grammar.

We met at the park entrance.
He walked up, smiled, and... I was hit by a wave.
No, not of passion. A wave of pungent deodorant mixed with the scent of an unwashed shirt and cheap tobacco. 💨🤢

This is a taboo we keep quiet about on dates, smiling politely while our noses sting.
We discuss politics, movies, and life plans, but we can't say, "Listen, you’re great, but your cologne reminds me of a 'Sea Breeze' air freshener in a roadside cafe." I honestly tried to walk beside him, breathing every other step and feeling like a pearl diver at depth. But when he leaned in to whisper something in my ear, my survival instinct won. I blamed a sudden migraine (which, by the way, was almost becoming true) and bolted.

Girls, feminism is also the right to clean air!
**** Love should smell like happiness, not a chemical plant****
Now I’m afraid to go on dates without a gas mask in my purse!!!!!!