A friend mailed me this one long time back....
This is a tribute to the
nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends,
that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while
disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a
shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who
hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside
the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that
obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends
are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of
support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back
attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a
girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who
escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take
advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as
buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a
girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who
always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys
who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being
boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and
unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly
abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time
she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back,
she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said
to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a
jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This
is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated
in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she
thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought
it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for
two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor.
This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that
there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party
where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with
you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh,
but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic
warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
