Skip to main content

Why do nice guys always finish last?


In any 20-something year old girls life, there are a few things that will inevitably come out of her mouth, typically while holding a glass of wine:

1. I hate periods, I wish the men could suffer the same pain just once. 
2. Look how skinny I was at 18 before my metabolism kicked in and the weed/Jaegerbombs wore off
3. I just want to meet a NICE guy. 

No you don't hun. You absolutely do not. 

Any girl that says she wishes men suffered periods, fair play, they should suffer. It feels like your ovaries are being pillaged by a small army carrying pitchforks shouting "death to white underwear!". It would be nice for them to understand that pain before they suggest you pop a Neurofen and cheer up. 

Skinnier at 18? Yes you were. But you were also clueless as shit and also probably wearing dresses with cutouts all over them so considering your lowered BMI you were most likely very chilly also. At least your grown-up, desk job chub will warm you. 

You want to meet a nice guy? I've heard every straight girl say this at one point or another. Some gay girls too, but in the hopes that the nice guy can introduce them to a nice girl. Nice girls understand other nice girls period pains so that's a good start.
I digress..
When a girl says that they want to meet a nice guy, they always wear this expression as if they are constantly having asshole guys launched at them non-stop like a Tinder parade outside their front door conducted by a shirtless Fuckboy holding a dog that he found in a park. 

"Where are all the good guys?" she exclaims, while taking a dramatic gulp of her white wine. (Nachos would go well with that too, let's say she's eating nachos...with guac). 

I'll tell you where the good guys are - literally everywhere. Honestly, if you open your eyes you will find there is an absolute epidemic of nice guys who are just dying to take you out for dinner, listen to you talk about your fight with Becky in the office over staplers, hug you when you're cold and bring a beautiful tray of Kosher rugelach to your mother on a Shabbas.

So where are these nice guys that you are not seeing? Are they hiding behind large objects like Magnum bottles of Belvedere or all you can eat sushi platters? (Could I sound more basic?)

They are actually not hiding at all, they are the guys who are listening to you moan about your 'guy' problems, always willing to lend a hand, messaging you on Facebook being very polite. They are the invisibles.

Now don't get me wrong, some of these guys are very creepy and do deserve to be ignored. There's a big difference. Fuck men who think they live in the mystical 'friend zone' and are being punished because they arent allowed to have sex with you. Also fuck weird men who you have barely met sending you pushy messages, going all Aladdin on Instagram saying they want to show you the world. (When I say fuck them, I don't mean literally fuck them but if you want to that's fine too)

So if these nice guys are right infront of our eyes, why are we not seeing them? 

Honestly - it's because we don't want to. Your 20s are a time to have very little idea what you want. Trust me, as a bonafide control freak I am as disappointed about this as you. Apparently we are supposed to be very confused about many things, and we must make peace with it. 

Not knowing what we want is part of the ride. You may think you're ready for the aspiration of settling down with a great, sweet guy; but in reality you always end up face down on the sofa of some asshole who's surname you don't remember. 

Now - when you are ready for the nice guy; there is still some deciphering to do. If you have ever come across a fantastic and gripping series by the name of 'Hannah Montana' you will know that people are not always what they seem. There is a rare breed of Fuckboys, native to many parts of the Western world known as 'Fake Nice Boys' or FNBs for short. 

You will find them largely dressed in jumper vests and very shiny shoes, or on the weekends perhaps in a subtle gingham print. Beware of the FNB. The FNB tries to hard to come across nice. He opens doors, even to rooms that you're not walking into. He tells you he is nice, all the time. His hair is almost always very tidy, because he knows that nice boys comb their hair. Go break into his house at 4am, I guarantee you he is asleep in gingham pyjamas with a perfect coiff. 

The reason to fear these creatures is that they spend so much time pretending to be nice, that when they pull the rug out from under you it is guaranteed to hurt. When Jimmy the drummer who has had more beanie hats than long term girlfriend leaves you, you at least saw it coming. When an FNB gets you picking out Challa cloth paterns and then goes sour, it's a lot more of a shock.

So whether you are trying to find a nice guy, having fun with bad boys or just taking each individual as he/she comes, the main thing is that you keep your wits about you and be honest with yourself about what you want.

If you don't know what you want, even better - enjoy the ride. All I can advise is that when you do know what you want, don't let it pass you by.  

Many thanks,
Kind regards,
Etc,
etc

The Geisler

Comments

  1. What a great relief for all the men in the world to read this. They no longer need to be 'nice'. Which is such a strain on normally limited resources anyway. You've liberated them all to bring out their inner bastards, their closet bad-boys, their complete set of sulking, brooding James Deanery. There's a thousand accountants from Borehamwood at this very moment standing in front of their mirrors practicing their 'and FUCK YOU, BIYUTCH!!!!' until their mums come and tell them not to wake the cats. Well done. Great blog.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

They Always Come Back

I remember the first times a fuckboy ever broke my heart, my best friend said to me "they always come back." At the time, if I recall correctly, I was in our student house wearing a giant purple onesie with pools of eyeliner down my face and two cigarettes in my hand. Looking like what can best be described as  Barney the Dinosaur's cracked out ex-wife, I shouted back 'AS FUCKING IF'. Eloquent young lady I was. But seriously - as fucking if. As if some douchebag who shouldn't have won the race against the other sperm to join this planet was going to magically 'come back' and save the day. The thing is though...she was right. I have had all sorts of break ups. Messy break ups, clean breaks, break ups over MSN, WhatsApp, FaceTime and even once via my sister on the phone mimicking my voice. No matter what though, in some way or another they do always come back. There aren't many things I'm afraid of. Spiders? No problem - they're

How To Spot A Fuckboy

So you've started dating this new guy and you are absolutely convinced he's ~*the one*~. You know, because he is tall, good looking and you've pictured your wedding day on the first date and in that scenario he makes such a funny yet touching speech in his little tux. Just the normal stuff. The reality is, however, that more and more women every day are falling victim to the fuckboy. It's like cystitis of the heart.  What is a Fuckboy you ask? A Fuckboy is someone who acts like he wants something serious and just fucks you around for absolutely no proven reason. Sometimes it may seem that all they want is sex, but more often than not it is the pure joy of confusing you into thinking you're in love and then moving to 1 Yemen Road, Yemen.  Unfortunately Fuckboys aren't so easy to spot in the daylight, they're like Werewolves only not the sexy kind from that stupid Twilight movie that I pretended not to like. (Slow-motion stripping Werew

Can anyone really play 'hard to get'?

  Hello team of loyal readers (a small handful of my mum's friends and some people in India) I was actually not intending to defibrillate this blog back to life again, but here we are ladies, gents and everyone in-between. On Monday night, I sat down with my girls to watch the first episode of a profoundly intellectual documentary that subverts all our ideas about love and relationships. Yep, it was Love Island.  As with all group arrangements to watch TV, it soon dissipated into chaos of talking over the show and me spilling prosecco on the couch. Because my friends are actually more interesting than watching people suck each other's toes in HD (but only just) this wasn't such a bad thing. The topic of the night was all about how and when to message a guy who you're in the early stages of dating. My god it is a motherfucking minefield. Every single option has an equal and opposite.  If you message after the date to say thank you, is it keen?  But then if you don't