Either the Nice Guy sees an opportunity and makes his move – and gets shot down – or his crush gets a new boyfriend; this is usually seen as the last straw for the Nice Guy.
This event is celebrated in the manner traditional to the Nice Guy’s people: blowing up at the object of his affection for her “betrayal” of him or a long and often embarrassing rant on the Internet all about the perfidy of womankind. See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you.
In this case, the kernel of an article came to me via Twitter as one of my readers linked me to a post on Tumblr with a rant and blistering response between a “Nice Guy” and one of the many women who bought into the “Nice Guy” schtick.
It saves me all of the time and anxiety that comes with writing a thrice-weekly column that usually culminates with the 3 AM insomnia-inducing panic that leads to my brain screaming “I HAVE RUN OUT OF IDEAS!
3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab ahold of it.
I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men.
” as I try to force inspiration into my face through judicious prescriptions of Macallan from my good friend Dr.
Whiskey all the while cursing my laptop for betraying me by not magically producing the pages that the DMT elves promised me.
Allow me to present you with an actual Nice Guy rant, as posted to Craigslist in 2007: I see this question posted with some regularity in the personals section, so I thought I’d take a minute to explain things to the ladies out there that haven’t figured it out. He’d tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you.