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ceebeegeeOne time, a long time ago, a Nice Guy wrote into Dan Savage in the Voice--a loooong diatribe about how he was Nice but he never got any action and no girl was ever interested in him and blah blah blah, entitlement-cakes. Note that nowhere in the letter did the guy talk about wanting to share his life with someone, about wanting to "traverse the fall line of our aloneness" (in Diane Chambers's memorable phraseology from the Cheers episode where she and Sam first hook up--God, I remember that entire script! Hilarious!)--nothing that indicated he saw women as human beings with agency. No, he wanted to get some. Well, that problem is easily solvable--go to a prostitute. Oooooh, you want free sex? A relationship? (Although, frankly, it doesn't sounds as though he wants a relationship, because that would mean seeing women as human beings with agency, instead of lying bitches who won't accommodate you). Well, then you have to charm the woman, don't you? She has to want to have sex with you. So you need to improve your game. Don't get mad because she's not responding--she has every right not to find you attractive, not to be interested. Every woman has that right. Life gives you no guarantees about relationships, sex, anything like that. (And the madder you get, the more pathetic you look--see below. If you want to have a connection, find a way to appeal to her, up your game--ideally of course by treating her as an intelligent human being. And if you've indicated your interest and she doesn't find you attractive, accept it gracefully and move on.
And as someone wrote back "LAS sounds crazy, desperate, and driven by rage. That is not any woman's idea of sexy. That he calls all women 'inherently self-destructive, lying, shallow whores' suggests that LAS is a guy with some issues about women. Frankly, LAS sounds like he'd rather chop me up into bite-size pieces and store me in his freezer than fuck me. I would strongly recommend 'Lonely and Suicidal' get himself laid somehow, even if he has to pay for it. Like halitosis, the stench of desperation is obvious to everyone around him, even if he can't smell it. After LAS finds a hooker, he should forgive his mother, and drop his pathetic 'I haven't been laid in four years' schtick." I wrote to Dan (although the letter did not get picked for publication) "Newsflash--you may NEVER again get laid. It's not in the Constitution, you know. You need to make your peace with that and stop blaming women for not finding you sexy."
See, what Nice Guys don't understand is the appeal of [Nice-Guy-styled] assholes. (Frankly, to some Nice Guys, an asshole is anyone who gets more action than he does.) It's not that women like Assholes as such, or particularly want to have someone dismiss their feelings. But at the same time there's something very refreshing about not having to deal with The Whining. If an Asshole hurts you, you can get the hell out of Dodge City. Your feelings might be hurt, and the damage might be bad but at least you're out of there. And you avoid that intensely annoying experience when you're forced to fend off a Nice Guy months later, who's been nursing a grudge about "that time you totally ignored me when you saw me at that party." (It's always about being ignored with Nice Guys--they have this whole game of social Battleship mapped out in their heads where people at parties are always sweeping past each other majestically, like ships in the night. This is similar to the Angry Guy, who also seems to be ignored a lot.)
As my friend Joni (jayjaycee) knows, I speak from experience. She and I know this guy (let's call him Bob) from back in the day in Virginia who was a friend of Joni's male friend (let's call him Kip). Bob was in the Navy and met me (and Joni) through Kip while on leave and was interested in me--when he had to go back to his ship, he made a point of telling Kip "tell Clara I'll be back." Bob visited the area every few months or so, and the four of us would spend time together at Bob's request--we had a double-date dinner party kind of thing, and so forth. Eventually he moved into the area permanently and made frequent appointments to spend time with me. This would involve dinner out at restaurants, or bowling, or other such outings, and from time to time he would bring me a rose or some other such romantic gesture. This went on regularly (once a week or so) for a while, over a month. After awhile I became uncomfortable--I wasn't really interested in him romantically and every signal I was getting said that he was. And more to the point, I was in the throes of a crippling episode of depression. I really didn't have the energy to fend off the unspoken, hopeful signals of this guy. So I started being unavailable to have dinner with him, see a movie with him. I would stay at home and bake or knit instead, domestic comfort activities that always cheer me up and were helping me with my state of mind. Also, it was the fall--I always go out for pumpkins in the fall and get all pumpkin-tastic with cookies, pies, etc. So eventually Bob kind of fell by the wayside.
Fast-forward to New Years Eve--I'm at a party at Kip's and I'm in a vintage black velvet halter-top dress from Garfinckel's, wearing coral-colored lip gloss and having a great time. I'm flitting from room to room and I run into a glowering Bob. He's giving me this pugnacious look, clearly spoiling for a fight. I say "hey" to him, he doesn't say anything back, I shrug and move on to flirtier pastures. This goes on for a little while and finally he corners me in the kitchen.
"I suppose you want to know why I've been ignoring you all night?"
Uh, actually no--it didn't cross my mind that you were ignoring me because I really don't care. This clearly means much more to you than to me. I remember lifting my eyebrows and shaking my head in this "whatEVER" expression and saying "uh, well, it sounds like you have something on your mind...?" Oh my GOD, all I want to do is drink champagne and have a good time tonight, NO DRAMA.
He proceeds to go off on me about the fall, about how "lame" it was that I stopped hanging out with him, and how "ridiculous" my excuses were. "You had to bake? That's pathetic. Just tell me you don't want to hang out with me."
Okay, first of all--you need to understand the concept of the polite fiction. It is a common, time-tested way of preserving people's feelings--a person doesn't say "I would never go out with you in a million years, you disgust me" the person says instead "I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend." Or "I already have plans." Or something. Don't ever try the "you should've just told me the truth" attack--because if any woman ever really tells you the truth about why she doesn't want to see you, you would then attack her for "being such a bitch!"
Second--I wasn't employing the polite fiction--or at least, I wasn't making it up. I really DID have other plans to bake or knit on those nights. Why? Because I was in the throes of a crippling episode of depression. Not that it's any business of HIS, I shouldn't have to whip out a doctor's certificate to justify my not spending time with someone. However, yes, there was a reason I was choosing to spend time in other ways than with him and I told him so. "I was getting the strong impression that you were interested in me, and I didn't feel that way, so I felt it was best not to encourage the situation."
He got very defensive at that. "NO. I never said anything like that to you."
"Really? Because the signals you were giving off, most women would interpret that way."
"Like what?" (all very belligerently)
"Well, like asking me to dinner all the time, giving me roses--"
"What? What's romantic about that? NO, that's not romantic, why would you think that?"
I just sighed--I was SO over this moronic conversation. "Okay, fine, you weren't interested in me--frankly, I really don't care. But then what is this about? Why are you reacting so strongly?" KILL ME NOW. ALL I WANT TO DO IS DRINK SOME CHAMPAGNE WITH MY FRIENDS. GO AWAY.
He kind of floundered, saying "well, it's just that we were friends--"
"Why do you have this expectation that I spend time with you on such a regular basis? I don't see most of my friends that often. And if they don't see me once a week, they certainly don't get pissy about it."
The thing is--he was interested, obviously, but he didn't want to come right out and say so, because then he risked rejection. He was doing the "hopeful signals" strategy. Okay, that's fine, it can be tough to put yourself completely on the line--there's no shame in just sending out signals to see if she responds. But when the woman correctly reads your signals and 1) doesn't respond (which IS a response), or 2) gently alludes to the fact that this will not happen, don't get pissy and coy with her. "I was never interested in you, why would you think that?" clutching his pearls coyly. Oh bullshit, BOB, you were too. You made a play, it didn't pan out, man up and move on. Stop trying to preserve your fragile ego by putting the blame on the woman for some last-minute, trumped up transgression--every one knows what you're really blaming her for is not finding you attractive.
Coda to the New Year's Eve party--I DID have lots of champagne (FINALLY) and ended up flirting quite a bit with an ex-boyfriend of mine (Joni, you remember Marcus? He's on Facebook now, BTW) and THAT started up again for a few months. *smug smile* The Mean Girl part of me hopes that "Bob" saw us lingering at the door and making out. :->
The kicker is that a little over a year later, Joni and I were doing a show together, The Boyfriend, and he came to see it. By that time he and I would play the occasional game of tennis together. He came to see the show, brought me a full bouquet of flowers and included a note card on which he had covered every inch with a long, personal note about how much our "friendship" meant to him and how much he valued it. I mean, every. square. inch. was covered. I remember popping it open to another castmate, Jill, who knew the whole story, and her eyes got very big--"Oh my God, that took effort!" I said "I know, right?!"
There's even more to the story, but it doesn't involve me. Suffice it to say, Bob didn't really learn from this episode.
And as someone wrote back "LAS sounds crazy, desperate, and driven by rage. That is not any woman's idea of sexy. That he calls all women 'inherently self-destructive, lying, shallow whores' suggests that LAS is a guy with some issues about women. Frankly, LAS sounds like he'd rather chop me up into bite-size pieces and store me in his freezer than fuck me. I would strongly recommend 'Lonely and Suicidal' get himself laid somehow, even if he has to pay for it. Like halitosis, the stench of desperation is obvious to everyone around him, even if he can't smell it. After LAS finds a hooker, he should forgive his mother, and drop his pathetic 'I haven't been laid in four years' schtick." I wrote to Dan (although the letter did not get picked for publication) "Newsflash--you may NEVER again get laid. It's not in the Constitution, you know. You need to make your peace with that and stop blaming women for not finding you sexy."
See, what Nice Guys don't understand is the appeal of [Nice-Guy-styled] assholes. (Frankly, to some Nice Guys, an asshole is anyone who gets more action than he does.) It's not that women like Assholes as such, or particularly want to have someone dismiss their feelings. But at the same time there's something very refreshing about not having to deal with The Whining. If an Asshole hurts you, you can get the hell out of Dodge City. Your feelings might be hurt, and the damage might be bad but at least you're out of there. And you avoid that intensely annoying experience when you're forced to fend off a Nice Guy months later, who's been nursing a grudge about "that time you totally ignored me when you saw me at that party." (It's always about being ignored with Nice Guys--they have this whole game of social Battleship mapped out in their heads where people at parties are always sweeping past each other majestically, like ships in the night. This is similar to the Angry Guy, who also seems to be ignored a lot.)
As my friend Joni (
jayjaycee) knows, I speak from experience. She and I know this guy (let's call him Bob) from back in the day in Virginia who was a friend of Joni's male friend (let's call him Kip). Bob was in the Navy and met me (and Joni) through Kip while on leave and was interested in me--when he had to go back to his ship, he made a point of telling Kip "tell Clara I'll be back." Bob visited the area every few months or so, and the four of us would spend time together at Bob's request--we had a double-date dinner party kind of thing, and so forth. Eventually he moved into the area permanently and made frequent appointments to spend time with me. This would involve dinner out at restaurants, or bowling, or other such outings, and from time to time he would bring me a rose or some other such romantic gesture. This went on regularly (once a week or so) for a while, over a month. After awhile I became uncomfortable--I wasn't really interested in him romantically and every signal I was getting said that he was. And more to the point, I was in the throes of a crippling episode of depression. I really didn't have the energy to fend off the unspoken, hopeful signals of this guy. So I started being unavailable to have dinner with him, see a movie with him. I would stay at home and bake or knit instead, domestic comfort activities that always cheer me up and were helping me with my state of mind. Also, it was the fall--I always go out for pumpkins in the fall and get all pumpkin-tastic with cookies, pies, etc. So eventually Bob kind of fell by the wayside.Fast-forward to New Years Eve--I'm at a party at Kip's and I'm in a vintage black velvet halter-top dress from Garfinckel's, wearing coral-colored lip gloss and having a great time. I'm flitting from room to room and I run into a glowering Bob. He's giving me this pugnacious look, clearly spoiling for a fight. I say "hey" to him, he doesn't say anything back, I shrug and move on to flirtier pastures. This goes on for a little while and finally he corners me in the kitchen.
"I suppose you want to know why I've been ignoring you all night?"
Uh, actually no--it didn't cross my mind that you were ignoring me because I really don't care. This clearly means much more to you than to me. I remember lifting my eyebrows and shaking my head in this "whatEVER" expression and saying "uh, well, it sounds like you have something on your mind...?" Oh my GOD, all I want to do is drink champagne and have a good time tonight, NO DRAMA.
He proceeds to go off on me about the fall, about how "lame" it was that I stopped hanging out with him, and how "ridiculous" my excuses were. "You had to bake? That's pathetic. Just tell me you don't want to hang out with me."
Okay, first of all--you need to understand the concept of the polite fiction. It is a common, time-tested way of preserving people's feelings--a person doesn't say "I would never go out with you in a million years, you disgust me" the person says instead "I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend." Or "I already have plans." Or something. Don't ever try the "you should've just told me the truth" attack--because if any woman ever really tells you the truth about why she doesn't want to see you, you would then attack her for "being such a bitch!"
Second--I wasn't employing the polite fiction--or at least, I wasn't making it up. I really DID have other plans to bake or knit on those nights. Why? Because I was in the throes of a crippling episode of depression. Not that it's any business of HIS, I shouldn't have to whip out a doctor's certificate to justify my not spending time with someone. However, yes, there was a reason I was choosing to spend time in other ways than with him and I told him so. "I was getting the strong impression that you were interested in me, and I didn't feel that way, so I felt it was best not to encourage the situation."
He got very defensive at that. "NO. I never said anything like that to you."
"Really? Because the signals you were giving off, most women would interpret that way."
"Like what?" (all very belligerently)
"Well, like asking me to dinner all the time, giving me roses--"
"What? What's romantic about that? NO, that's not romantic, why would you think that?"
I just sighed--I was SO over this moronic conversation. "Okay, fine, you weren't interested in me--frankly, I really don't care. But then what is this about? Why are you reacting so strongly?" KILL ME NOW. ALL I WANT TO DO IS DRINK SOME CHAMPAGNE WITH MY FRIENDS. GO AWAY.
He kind of floundered, saying "well, it's just that we were friends--"
"Why do you have this expectation that I spend time with you on such a regular basis? I don't see most of my friends that often. And if they don't see me once a week, they certainly don't get pissy about it."
The thing is--he was interested, obviously, but he didn't want to come right out and say so, because then he risked rejection. He was doing the "hopeful signals" strategy. Okay, that's fine, it can be tough to put yourself completely on the line--there's no shame in just sending out signals to see if she responds. But when the woman correctly reads your signals and 1) doesn't respond (which IS a response), or 2) gently alludes to the fact that this will not happen, don't get pissy and coy with her. "I was never interested in you, why would you think that?" clutching his pearls coyly. Oh bullshit, BOB, you were too. You made a play, it didn't pan out, man up and move on. Stop trying to preserve your fragile ego by putting the blame on the woman for some last-minute, trumped up transgression--every one knows what you're really blaming her for is not finding you attractive.
Coda to the New Year's Eve party--I DID have lots of champagne (FINALLY) and ended up flirting quite a bit with an ex-boyfriend of mine (Joni, you remember Marcus? He's on Facebook now, BTW) and THAT started up again for a few months. *smug smile* The Mean Girl part of me hopes that "Bob" saw us lingering at the door and making out. :->
The kicker is that a little over a year later, Joni and I were doing a show together, The Boyfriend, and he came to see it. By that time he and I would play the occasional game of tennis together. He came to see the show, brought me a full bouquet of flowers and included a note card on which he had covered every inch with a long, personal note about how much our "friendship" meant to him and how much he valued it. I mean, every. square. inch. was covered. I remember popping it open to another castmate, Jill, who knew the whole story, and her eyes got very big--"Oh my God, that took effort!" I said "I know, right?!"
There's even more to the story, but it doesn't involve me. Suffice it to say, Bob didn't really learn from this episode.
