This is for all the nice guys who have ever been utterly confused by women.
This is for all the nice guys who have cursed “The Friend Zone.”
This is for all the nice guys who stand by, ready to catch her when that creep lets her fall. Because you know he will.
And this is for all the girls who never saw it coming.
I’ve seen all the rants from the nice guys about how ridiculous we women are to claim to want a nice guy only to chase that leather-wearing jerk. I’ve heard the stories of the heartbroken best friend who watches his heart’s desire crushed by insincere men. And I’m here to set the record straight, once and for all:
We don’t know what we want.
Sure, most of us want to be made to feel special. We want to be told that we’re pretty. We want to be held, and spoiled, and treated like a princess. There are those few who really enjoy being hurt, because, ya know, we all have daddy issues and whatever. But we want a little adventure, too. We’re not too picky about what exactly adventure entails; that much is obvious. Or else, “Hey baby, me and my boys are gonna go party at this secluded beach at an unholy hour,” wouldn’t sound so enticing.
The problem with the aforementioned qualities is this: They don’t exist. At least, not all in one package. Not usually, anyway. And so, we fall for those smooth talkers, with their beautiful words of silk. And we fall for those big blue (or brown, or green, or hazel) eyes surrounded by gorgeous dark fringe, staring straight into ours, promising everything every girl in the vast sea of estrogen has ever dreamed of. And we’d be willing to bet our college funds that this guy with all the confidence in the world is our knight in shining armor.
Only he’s not. He’s the guy with the game plan. The one that leads straight to a bed for the no-pants-dance. And you, Mr. Nice Guy, are fully aware of that game plan. But do you ever sit us down and explain what kinds of things are said behind those locker room doors? Now, I’m not saying our naivety and ignorance is your fault. But it would be nice to not be totally blindsided, ya know? Even if we do totally reject your attempt to save our hearts (and possibly, our virtue), you then later have a perfect opportunity for a well deserved, “I told you so.” Which is neither possible nor acceptable in a scenario where absolutely no telling occurs.
Anyway, the point is that we THINK we know what we want (scroll up for a brief list if you’ve already forgotten what that is). And we THINK we know what we want when we see it. But we don’t, and we can’t. And here’s where you come in, oh beloved-and-yet-so-under-appreciated nice guys: YOU must convince US that YOU are what WE want.
That’s right. It’s your job to Jedi-mind trick us into believing that all those things that we think we want are all rolled into a nicely wrapped package of you. I’m not saying that you should lie, or leave any of the story out. A lie by omission is still a lie, and that shit’ll get you into angry girl hell. But I am saying that you should stretch your character to best fit those qualities. Kind of like in a job interview, when the guy behind the shiny mahogany desk asks you what characteristics you possess that would better the work environment: “I happened to shower this morning” becomes “clean;” “I’ve never been caught eating the grapes at my grocery store job” becomes “trustworthy;” and “I didn’t fail out of high school” becomes “hardworking.”
And I’m not saying it wont be hard, either. I AM saying that if she’s worth the time conjuring up an entire whiny note on LINS or Facebook, then she’ll most likely be worth the effort. So, dear Nice Guys, I’m asking– no, challenging– you to do what needs to be done. Remind us of what it is we think we want, and give it to us. Every single day. Otherwise the swaggering, fist-pumping, teeth-bleaching, salon-tanning, multiple-pictures-of-their-abs-for-facebook-taking douchebags win. Please– don’t leave the fate of love in the hands of the cast of Jersey Shore.
“Help us, Obi Wan Kenobi… You’re our only hope.”