An Ode to The Nice Guy

You know who you are… or maybe you don’t.  For the sake of clarity, I’ll qualify you:

You’ve got integrity and virtue. You’re honest and optimistic. You’re helpful and trustworthy. But most importantly, you are unappreciated. You’ve probably got quite a few girl friends with whom you prefer to spend your time, though no real girlfriend. They adore you. They change their clothes around you. You drive them to the bars. You help them move. And there’s probably one girl among them with whom you are in love, though you’d never tell her so. And she’s probably a little bit crazy.

This girl means no harm, but she can’t ever seem to get her shit together. On her good days she makes you laugh and you spend fabulous evenings chatting about everything and nothing at all. She may get drunk and make out with you, but she never gives you any indication that you potentially have a chance at being the man in her life. And you never will be – know this now. You’re simply “too nice” or the two of you are “too good of friends” to ever ruin it with romance. What she means is, she is far too jacked up to be of any use to you in a relationship; she simply has nothing to offer someone as wonderful as you.

So there you are, contentedly enjoying the sublime presence of said mistress – perhaps occasionally rubbing her feet or partnering with her at the gym – silently watching as she dates one loser after another, none of whom treat her they way she deserves to be treated. They way you’d treat her. You comfort her while she wails on about her most recent tragedy, dutifully finishing up for her the term paper she has due in the morning. You might rub her back while she finally drifts off to sleep, her misery deflected once more by your affection. How you wish she was always as tranquil as she looks when she is sleeping.

But it’s only a matter of time before she dives into another catastrophe, blind to your devotion and misguided attempts to fix her. You’ll watch helplessly as she enters abusive relationships, fights with her mother, gets sucked into eating disorders, abuses drugs, gets fired, loses friends, gets stood up, gets arrested, insert alternate nutty girl behavior here. She’ll run to you. And you’ll never, ever let her down. So why doesn’t she love you?

All crazy girls have a Keith, a Dave, an Adam, a James, a Mike, a Rich, a Matt, a you. For every bonkers, unbalanced pretty girl there is steadfast boy scout virtually carrying her through life. You may feel taken for granted. You may feel unloved. Unappreciated. Scorned. Dejected. And you’re right.

On behalf of batty girls everywhere, I say thank you. From those of us who have survived the psycho and seen the flip side of flaky, we know we could never have gotten through without you. You loved us in a way we could never fully comprehend or appreciate, and you never asked for a thing in return. So, please take a long look at your coveted lunatic and accept her for the wounded adorable sociopath she is, and don’t ever give up on her. You could very well be the cornerstone of the woman she decides she can become once she lays to rest all the disfunction. And if she never tells you how much you’ve meant to her, I’m telling you now; you are indispensable. You are irreplaceable. You are loved.