If You’re a Nice Guy, I’m an Idiot

Oh my god. Do you ever look back on previous situations and think ‘Hoooollllyyyyy shit I’m an idiot.’

No background story here. This is the very short-lived (thankfully) story of The Nice Guy.

No, this isn’t a story about the nice guy who you friendzone and later regret or something. This is the story of me being an idiot. Not too complicated, right?

Alright, let’s hop into this before I change my mind.

The story begins at Social. (I really wasn’t exaggerating when I say that all my mistakes happen at Social. Maybe I can sue for infliction of emotional distress at this point? Will Google later.)

I run into an old coworker who is with a group of people I’ve never met. One guy in particular stands out. He was hella attractive and just seemed different from everyone else I’ve seen around. We instantly start chatting and I discover he just moved from California. Well I’m sold there because I have a healthy (unhealthy) obsession with LA.

We chat it up for quite some time and he asks for my number. I decided against giving it out because I didn’t feel like putting any effort into this after this one night. Lol @ me.

Well as Gainesville has proven over and over again, this place is small AF, so of course we run into each other several times afterwards.

We flirt back and forth for a month and we text randomly, but again very little effort was put in between him and I.

One night in particular, we’re upstairs talking. I think he was trying to show me he had depth to him, because he tells me some sob story about his past and proceeds to tell me, “I’m a nice guy, Paula.” I’m not going to lie, I was intrigued. I’m a fan of men who aren’t afraid to verbalize feelings or open up to people, mostly because I know how hard it is.

So what happens after? He tries to kiss me.

Although I initially didn’t want to, I turn away because my gut was telling me something was off.

He tells me again how nice of a guy he is, and I actually gave in this time. Come on, Paula get it together.

So whatever, we make out for a short bit, no biggie right?

Well a few months later, homeboy turns into a mega douche. When I mean mega douche, I mean he wears daddy shirts and promotes Bumble for fun, not even for money.

He became (and still is) douchey to the point where I was actually embarrassed to say we kissed at all.

Again, no biggie. We all go though mega douche phases, right? No?

Maybe a year later, I come to find he tells guys I’m close friends with that he made out with me and proceeds to ask if they’ve “hit that yet.” Can’t make this shit up guys, he’s that kind of mega douche.

Do I feel like an idiot for allowing him to kiss me? Yeah kind of. Although it’s not a big deal to me, I still see it as a reflection of myself and my choices.

But the truth is, I almost feel sorry for him. If you look at his life, it’s actually very empty. Based on what he’s told me (although the source isn’t super reliable), he has bigger dreams than what he’s currently doing. And sure, being in your 20’s is still young, but when you’re no where close to what you want to be doing, you need to start asking yourself what you’re doing wrong.

Additionally, mega douches eventually start feeling lonely. Going from one girl to the next is fun for a while until what you really crave is coming home to someone steady to tell them about what Becky at work did and cuddle up to your bae after dinner.

Mega douches like The Nice Guy feel like they have to live up to this standard of “fuck bitches, get money”, but he’s honestly working one or two part-time jobs and creating this reputation of being a douche, which will eventually deter most girls from wanting to spread it for him anyway.

So although he feels like it’s somehow a super cool thing to tell my pals he’s made out with me (cool story, bro), I have no problem at all to admit it was a mega mistake to touch mega douche in the first place.

 

Love,

The Girl with a Heart on Her Middle Finger

 

 

 

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