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An Ode To The “Nice Guys” I Overlooked For Assholes
Is there some truth to the infamous statement, “Girls don’t like nice guys?”
In my case, yes.
This week I found myself lying in bed wide awake in the early dark hours of the morning, reminiscing on the past memories of two guys I believe would make great partners, and even husbands, for many women. Both of them were attracted to me at different periods in my life, and I overlooked those two hopeless romantics to be with asshole men who left me heartbroken and empty.
Why did I reject their advances, you may ask? Promise me you won’t laugh or get mad at me?
One of them was short. That’s it. He was my height, which bothered the hell out of me.
I am what men call “fun-sized,” meaning I am the height of an adorable yet mischievous Hobbit from Lord of the Rings. I have always been attracted to men towering at least six feet in height, and I do not give men whose statures fall under 72 inches the time of day.
I met Pierre at a day party in the Lower East Side. We immediately clicked, as we shared a mutual love for dancing. There’s something extremely captivating about a man who can really move his hips, as a guy who can physically keep up with me on the dance floor is a rarity. His stamina and strength were such a turn on.
