Recently a rather naive friend was telling me about the new girl he was dating. They’d been out a few times, but he hadn’t heard from her since the last date, when he went over to her place and then had to lie down because he felt sick.
Now, wait just a minute. What? No, no, no! I took him to task. I won’t agree to the oft-voiced claim that women flat-out don’t want nice guys. But I will admit to drunkenly advising this friend that he has to be a little bit more like an asshole if he doesn’t want to come across as a pansy.
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Between the mama’s boy, the softie, the geek, the sensitive ponytail man, the teddy bear, and the by the books square, there is one common chant: Nice guys finish last. It’s a chorus I’ve heard from Green Day to the likes of my brother, but after a few bad boys break your heart, even a motorcycle mama would like to take a true gentleman for a spin.
So, when a sneaker wearing lawyer asked me out, I figured this was my chance to do good. He was a real meat and potatoes kind of guy, but date after date, our conversations never waned. Normally I can chew ‘em up and spit ‘em out, but this guy was just so nice — but that was actually all I could say about him when my friends pried. He pulled out my chair, picked up tabs, opened doors, and liked me to be on top. As we got close, I saw some serious potential, but I still wanted to loosen his tie.
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