“Back from my early date. He was a very, very nice man. A good guy. And cute. I wish I knew a very, very nice women to introduce him to.”
I tweeted that last night, shortly after I got home from my date. Just to be crystal clear, it was a perfectly fine date. I enjoyed his company. We had a pleasant conversation. The bar he selected to meet at was a place I quite like, convenient for me… I have no complaints about the date.
Anyway, my tweet received several replies:
@singlegirlie, “Uh oh. Too nice?”
@bobmatnyc, “LOL! Not bad enough for you, eh?
@ecined, “Pack him up and ship him to Arizona?
@ambilevous, “you have no idea how much it sucks to be on the receiving end of something like that”
@derekscruggs, “More proof that nice guys finish last?
@silentific, “Classic nice guy #fail RT @SimoneGrant: He was a very, very nice man. I wish I knew a very, very nice women to introduce him to.”
@Dzubak, “You girls and your nice guy drama ! I want a specific of nice on this one please. ??”
@KB_in_NYC, “I’m nice. Then again, maybe not so much. I think I have the same nice guy aversion thingy you do. Sigh.”
So here’s the deal about me and “nice guys”. First of all, I prefer kind to nice. Kindness is an essential quality I look for in a guy. I can’t love a guy who isn’t kind.
That said, here’s the thing. And I realize that this is something that a LOT of my readers just won’t be able to relate to.
I’m an ex-punk. I mean that literally. I had pink hair. And purple hair. And orange hair. And bits of hair shaved off so you could see my skull. Oh, and crayon red hair. That was my favorite. There were many years of my life when all of my clothes were black. I have done things, some of them not-so-long-ago, that I would never admit to most of my friends.
I have not been a good girl.
For most of my teens and 20s I was absolutely certain that I would never live to see 30. Not just me. My friends felt the same way (which is freaking hysterical because my closest friends from back then, who are still the people I love most in the world, are corporate VIPS now). But it was actually pretty reasonable for us to believe it then. We’d already lost some of the people we loved. And we knew others who were HIV+ (which back then meant something different than it does now).
And then we hit 30 and we were still alive. Not only alive but doing well. Whoulda thunk it? So we started to follow some of the rules, sometimes. Started to think about the future.
The way I see it, the people in my generation (which I vaguely see as very late 30s to early 50s – which is, I guess, more the people in my social sphere than the people in my generation) fall into 3 groups: Group A is like me. We never thought we’d make it this far.
Group B are the rule followers. They were the good kids. The ones who always did as they were told. And they turned into rule following adults.
Group C started on the same trajectory as Group A. They jumped in every puddle, drove their parents nuts, etc. But at no point did it occur to them that they were, indeed, still alive. That as sad and challenging and unfair as reality is, they could make their lives into something. So they continue to destroy their bodies, minds, relationships , jobs with self-destructive behavior because they are absolutely certain that none of it is worth shit.
I’ve tried, really I have, to have relationships with guys in Group B. And it just can’t work. Our brains just work too differently. I challenge everything. I’m always asking WHY.
I don’t think I’ve done a very good job in explaining this. Look, it’s not something wrong with nice guys. I don’t find them unattractive in any way. It’s about who I am and who they are and the lives we’ve led and the way we process the world. Differently.
ps. Men from Group C need not apply.
Tags: nice guy, Twitter