An Open Letter To Nice Guys
Dear (Too) Nice of Guys:
Please wait for us. You’re not “too” nice. That is a myth. A lie. A spin on what some might call a gentleman. We will come to our senses as quickly as we’ll stop going to the Hangge Uppe. Unfortunately, some of us still enjoy stumbling out at 5 a.m…and falling asleep on our rooftops because we thought it would be “nice to watch the sun rise.”
But please wait for us. You guys seem to have it together, most of the time. The bouncer doesn’t recognize you at Benchmark and the bartender doesn’t know your favorite drink. You usually make it to work on time. You eat at other places than Chipotle, Boston Market, and Portillo’s (but I’m not opposed to those…). You don’t know the difference between fancy wines and neither do I — which makes me comfortable. Could a girl ask for anything else? Of course. My point is, you have the basics. The outline. You might not notice our new reverse ombre lowlights or Jack Rogers sandals — but you know when we’re upset and could use a glass or two of wine. The best part? You know when to just hand us the bottle.
Don’t give up on us just yet. We know these guys don’t want to date us; we’re not even lying to ourselves anymore! Eventually, we will learn to hate unreturned texts and exhausting games of cat-and-mouse. We’ll learn to say no when a guy asks us to “come over and watch a movie,” and yes to the guy who asks us to dinner (Topo Gigio, anyone?).
Give it a little more time. I prommmmise (for real this time), we’re growing really sick of the “game.” Or as a friend affectionately calls it, “the hunt.”
My mom’s token advice is to “make sure you can have fun digging a ditch with the person you’re with.”
I’m not so much of an outdoorsy girl, but I would rather go digging than hunting.
A | A | A
Nobody actually expects you to act like an adult for a while.
“What are you going to do with an English degree?”
I’m finding it hard to muster any sympathy for this asthmatic leatherneck. Instead, there is only contempt.
He noted that during trial, the women (we made up three out of the four mockers) mumbled to ourselves in between questioning witnesses.