Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks

On Nice Guys

I am so tired of hearing about how Nice Guys finish last and women never give them a chance because we are too busy having inappropriate relationships with Jerks who treat us like crap all of the time. So tired that I could bang my head against the wall until my obviously Nice-Guy-hating-brain splatters all over the place. People are not so easily categorized into “nice” and “jerk.” The guys who you think are “nice” sometimes turn out to be jerks and the jerks could actually be good guys. As humans, we are more complicated than that. We all have our moments. And the people who are stuck at the ends of the spectrum, those men who truly are 100 percent “nice” or 100 percent “jerk” are actually really boring and impossible to talk to. Because the interesting stuff about humans isn’t found in the extremes. It’s found in the middle, where us normal people live, balancing our good intentions and kind natures against our darker side that is more likely to misbehave and call people names, gossip, sleep around, act cocky and generally not always be polite. In short, sometimes the flaws are what attract us to people. Sometimes the flaws are what make people not boring. The thing is – I do like really kind-hearted people. I don’t always flock to the biggest ass in the room. I’ve spent plenty of nights talking to plenty of nice, quiet guys who never made the move to ask me out. Maybe they weren’t attracted to me. Maybe they were shy. But they were nice, and I flirted with them and nothing. (Not that every guy has to ask me out in order for him to be considered nice.) So I resent the notion that I (and other women) don’t like Nice Guys. I know as well as the next person that dating is hard. I put myself out there only to be shot down and frankly most days I’d rather hibernate in my apartment eating grapes and playing Sodoku than gussy myself up to go try to find a guy. It is tiring. (Because, FYI a lot of you Nice Guys aren’t as Nice as you think you are.) And I complain about it a lot. But ultimately I know that I have to go after what I want. And since I want a relationship more than a nerdy ability to order numbers correctly in boxes, I get my kind single ass out there and deal with spinster jokes from my family and the embarrassment and indignity of falling flat on your face trying to woo a guy or being completely rejected by someone who you thought liked you. So, no, I don’t feel sorry for grown men who sit in the corner and complain about how no women like them because they are Nice Guys. Do you know how many men I have flat out turned down in recent months? Two. One who is cocky and arrogant and another who tried to feel me up a in a parking lot and called me like a psycho five times in the span of 30 minutes. Neither of them were Nice Guys. And neither of them got what they wanted. What I’m saying is that I go out with normal people who ask me out. At least once. But as long as you’re the bitter Nice Guy sitting in the corner feeling sorry for himself because all of the women dislike you and only date jerks who are going to eventually hurt them because they’re not Nice like you, I can promise you that no woman is going to go out with you. Because she doesn’t even know you are interested in dating. Because your pathological fear of rejection has driven you so far into that corner that you’re no longer a nice, datable guy. You’re a creepy quiet dude who freaks women out because you stare at them inappropriately. I know, I know. Women can be evil witches. And so can men. We’ve all got baggage, people. And as long as you keep deluding yourself into thinking that women don’t like you because you’re a Nice Guy and not a Jerk, you are going to be alone. It would be like me refusing to try to date men because I’m not a skinny size two with perfect breasts and a flat stomach and Men Only Like Hot Models. I believed this for many years and consequently kept myself out of the game because I convinced myself that I wasn’t sexy and beautiful. You know what? There are men who like ladies with hips and a little more to love – and I know this because if there weren’t, I’d still be waiting for my first kiss. You have to carry yourself with confidence and walk with a sense of pride. It took me more than twenty years to truly become a datable woman and to realize that I would be a good mate, despite all of my shortcomings – or perhaps because of them. My point? Stop blaming your dating failures on Nice Guys Finishing Last and Evil Women Who Only Like Jerks. (We’ll let the Evil Women Who Only Like Jerks keep the Men Who Only Like Hot Models occupied and away from all of us Regular People Who Just Want Someone To Talk To.) Don’t be afraid to just be a Normal Guy who is attracted to certain women and who would be a good boyfriend and who isn’t going to freak out and hate the world every time someone turns him down. P.S. And if one more person sends me that “I’m sorry” e-mail forward about the guy who is sorry that he stood by some tragic girl as her friend and held back her hair when she puked and let her walk all over him only to be ignored and treated like just a friend … I will go postal. Because I’ve been the female equivalent of that, so I resent the idea that women are the evil purveyors of mean while the men all sit around innocently doing our bidding. Also, if you are that guy and you like that girl, then tell her how you feel. And if she rejects you, trust me, it will hurt like nothing has ever hurt before in your whole life and you might feel like you have a gaping wound and are bleeding for everyone to see. But ultimately, you’ll know. And the feeling isn’t fatal. I promise.

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Charming, but single is 25 26 27(!), lives in the Southern part of the U.S.A. and likes both her drinks and her boys tall. E-mail (listed below) her and she may respond. You can also IM her in AIM/AOL. (If she ever remembers to sign on.)
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Former taglines of this blog: "A Journal in Dates and Drinks" and "A Dateless Journal of Drinking."

Those Particulars
Some Backstory
Memories of the Way We Were
Updates and Towel Snapping
One Year Wrap-Up
Just As She Is
An Open Letter to Myself
After 26 years, she HAS learned something
An Open Letter to the Men Who Message Me Through Match
Sharing a smoke

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