I think I’m a nice guy but I’m really not.
Trust me. Maybe I look “nice” or am polite, yes that’s it, I am certainly polite, but that is based on fear of not being liked. I NEED to be liked. It is absolutely vital that you like me. So when in conversation with another, if the topic of me arises (it is only natural it would, after all) one conversationalist can say to the other, oh yeah, -----, yeah, he’s a pretty good guy, people like him, he has qualities that are pleasing to others. So that way I am secure, because if I think other people like me, then things are ok, I can then go out and be gracious and compassionate to others with nary a thought for myself. Ha! And say there are eligible and desirable women in the midst of a conference about my many fine traits (this happens a lot) they will certainly mention my niceness, although being TOO nice, or “only” nice is the kiss of death in the realm of romance and passion. But still, it is important to me that I am perceived as “mostly nice” or at least “nice enough” and not a complete dick. Although a great case can, and has been presented to the effect that dickishness and assholery carry far more weight as a primal force of seduction than simply holding a few doors and smiling and not being mean to people. Men are brutes at heart, and women cannot help but notice the brutes. The louts. The lummox-men of the world, whether presented straight-up, or cloaked in layers of understated prestige and power, a little dangerous, but sly about it. Unpredictable. Sociopathic, if you will, Highly “intelligent” or at least cerebral, and appearing refined. It’s no surprise that Ted Bundy had little trouble convincing all kinds of women to hang out with him and chill. He had that face and character of sly charisma. Excitement! Danger! Ok, I’m so sorry, I’m presenting a very adolescent attitude here. Who DOES that? “Women, dudes, amirite?? They’re always going for Famous Serial Killers but not ME!! What’s UP with that? Can’t catch a break!” I was fortunate enough to spend a little time locked in a correctional facility and, being the Nice Guy that I am, I had a great deal of concern over how I was going to socialize with the fellows in there. I had gotten in a little trouble, certainly, but I presented as the sort of man the correctional officers felt they should put in one of the more “well behaved” units. I did find that in most cases a sure way to bond with a cellmate was to start complaining about a woman in particular, or women in general. Walls would come down immediately. Guys were not recalcitrant on this particular matter. Lotta trouble, these women. Many of them wouldn’t even be in jail if it weren’t for the damn women! So I will be the first to admit that I am prone to childish attitudes about this area of life. But who isn’t? Romance and relationships happen in spite of logic and reason and sound emotional maturity, not BECAUSE of all that. Formulas fail us, every time.
Where was I? Niceness. Yes. It’s generally good to “be nice” but it’s just not SEXY is all I was trying to say there, but let’s forget all about sex and sexiness. Put it right out of your mind. I implore you, think of anything else. Gay, straight, solo, muti-participant tag team, whatever really gets you steamed up, don’t think about it at all right now. It’s not important. We’re talking about niceness here, after all. The social contract. The reason we don’t just walk into a store or other people’s homes and just take things. It’s actually kind of amazing that we don’t do that. Every other life-form does. It’s not that we never do it, we just do it on a grand scale though, where it is not as perceptible. At some point a society or nation forms by a lot of violence and killing and taking things, then we settle down and enact “systems” whereby the stronger-traited citizens are rewarded and the weaker, deficient ones suffer. One can certainly attempt to walk around just trying to take things, but this is now generally seen as criminal, therefore “weak” behavior, of a
stunted mind. Poor social development is cited. Something bad must have happened to them as a child, to behave in such a brazen way. Anyone who lives in any society at all agrees to, whether they are aware of it or not, all kinds of unspoken rules and manner of conduct. Most of them are not explicitly written out, although our penal code often has to catch up with “not-nice” behavior after the fact, to decide how to handle the infraction. Thank god for criminals! We have learned that public defecation, for example, by humans, is not to be encouraged, or even just being outside without proper concealment of the more shameful anatomical parts. We do this presumably so as not to “excite” the more animal urges in some of us, even though we have risen far beyond these instincts. We’ve practically forgotten about them! We’re so busy being kind and thoughtful to others. Anyway, the number of things we DON’T do every day but really want to far outweighs those activities we constantly perform because “we should.” Work. Brush teeth. Shower. Use a toilet. Give someone else some money that used to be yours. Saying “good morning” to anyone, for any reason. When has there been ANYTHING good about any morning, I ask you? I beseech you. In short, we act nice, every day, all day.
But I was talking about MY niceness, specifically, here. Or something. Anyway like many I think of myself as nice. It’s really fun to be an absolute ass sometimes, is the problem, especially for personalities as naturally pliant and obedient, and a little meek, as myself. I’m not one to loudly insult someone who has affronted me, no, that would be straightforward and quite frankly, boring. Plus they might engage in a personal confrontation, with clear communication. No thanks. I offer the following as examples of my spiteful, meek version of taking a Stand Against Niceness: As a pedestrian I often need to cross roads, like many, and cars will stop, for no reason other than “niceness” and try to get me to cross while they wait. In the meantime other cars are piling up behind them and tempers are rising. “What is this jackass doing, letting that guy cross?? Jesus Christ,” they say. You’d think I would simply hurry across the busy street, for after all, I AM trying to get somewhere, thankful that they “let me go.” But no. I can’t accept this. You see, I have immense pride. Plus immense self-consciousness. If I were to actually cross, all the people in all the cars would be glaring at me. “That fucker,” they’d say to themselves. “Doesn’t even have his OWN car, what a dumb fuck. It’s 2 in the afternoon, too, on a Tuesday, the fucker doesn’t even look like he’s working. He probably doesn’t even WANT to work, the lazy fuck. Look at him! Walking like that. He probably thinks he’s real “nice” too, I bet, and he’d have a girlfriend or something if ONLY they KNEW how god damn nice he was. What a lazy piece of shit. He’s not even walking right.” This is simultaneously going through the mind of EVERY single driver on the road, who have been stopped in their tracks solely because of me. I absolutely know they are all thinking this. It can be scientifically proven, it is not in question. I’m in the spotlight, and I am fucking up bad. My advanced-level solution to this problem, for you see I am a man who thinks about and understand things, perhaps a little deeper than most, I am afraid to say. I’ve read books. I think things. Important things. Advanced concepts. Are you ready for it?? I simply refuse to cross the street. The “nice” driver who is trying to let me go? I ignore them, or curtly wave to indicate that I am above their simple-minded “nice” attitude, I simply won’t fall for it. I am above such things, you see. I transcend their plebian ideas of nice. If they insist, rather than continuing the hand waving charade I simply ignore them and stand there. Haha! That REALLY gets em! By now I would have been easily on the other side of the road and the piled up traffic would be back on their way to the next strip-mall. But no, I instead look away and put my hands in my pockets. I refuse to subject myself to their ridicule and scrutiny while I schlepp across the road like a chump. I avoid the spotlight on principle. Never mind the fact that all the fat slugs in personal fuck-dumbshit-boxes-on-wheels are even more angry AT ME while I stand there refusing to cross than they ever would have been if I had just obediently scampered across, head down, eyes averted from their Harsh Glare of Judgement. No, at this point I still have the upper hand, you see, I’m taking a stand against niceness. My worldview is more advanced than most. At this point it helps immensely to pull out my phone and affect an air of nonchalance. Perhaps I’ll look at my email! People are writing to me, they are obviously interested in my important thoughts, and are eager for me to contact them. Why, I’m so absorbed I’ve forgotten I’m even standing there, drivers staring to blare horns by now. They are simply beneath me, I do not deign to even glance their way. Victory! The initial nice driver finally slams on the gas, perhaps shouting, perhaps windows are rolled down, there is noise and honking of horns. Fingers are extended. Everyone has been held up and inconvenienced by this point, no one is happy, that’s for sure. “Did you SEE that skinny fuck??” they are asking their companions in their sheet-metal shit-busses, absolutely furious. “That car was TRYING TO BE NICE, and he was a total dick! What the fuck??”
The light finally changes and I can cross when properly indicated, having certainly kept my integrity completely intact. I emerge on the other side of the busy road, having taken my time crossing mind you, in the full flush of victory, for I have taken a powerful political stand against niceness. By actually crossing the street when told, per the regulations of society, by the flashing icon, I have achieved a far greater level of subversive protest than if I had crossed “against the light.” Because I do not give in to the truly neanderthal backwards-thinking of the self appointed “niceness ambassadors” of the world, who go about demanding politeness and propriety at all costs, who attempt to scold you if you don’t shower them constantly with praise for their truly asinine attempts at civility! Down with niceness! Well! Phew! These “nice” people are going to be the death of us! Thank god for true heroes like myself, with the advanced mind to comprehend that such daily protests are absolutely required.
I had another example of my quiet everyday revolutionary behavior that involved bus-riding, but I’m feeling worn out, having offered so much to humanity already today, so I will here call it quits. You’re welcome.
