We have all heard it. Most of us have said it before, and some like myself live it. “Nice guys finish last”; and that is the motto of my life. The one thing I don’t understand, is when and why did being nice become such a negative trait for a guy.
High School only reassures my belief, having gone through three years of it. I have seen complete jerks get the girls and when the guy hurts them who do they come to? Me. They tell me their story of how he is being a jerk, and all I can think is why do you stay with him, when you can be with someone… nice.
I am not the assertive pushy kind of guy, I am soft and try to get my point across with compliments and doing nice things. This I think may be my downfall. I stay away from the corny hook-up lines, because that’s what they are corny, and they don’t work for me. For some reason though, they work for everyone else but me. I am not pushy about it, I try to take it slow, but by the time I think that I have made it some where, they are with someone else and I am no more than a friend.
To most nice guys are punching bags, someone who wont say no, and doesn’t want to disappoint anyone. And its true, I cant say no most of the time, and I hate disappointing someone, but why is this a bad thing? Because people take advantage of it. They exploit my weakness, the one attribute I think of as my greatest strength.
I’ve heard some try to explain it to me, why girls don’t go for nice guys, I’ve heard that Nice Guys are so nice, that they must be insecure about themselves, and they try to make everyone else feel good, so they can compensate how they feel about themselves. To me this is complete bogus, I think that if I’m nice enough to go out of my way to do kind things for other people, to make them feel good, I’m feeling pretty good about my self, and I don’t need nice things done for me.
So what can I do about it? Change, be a jerk, use the corny pick up lines, and be pushy. No, I wont, I cant. So I will remain the Nice Guy, and hope that someday I will no longer be just the friend.
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