The Curse of the Nice Guy
by EnderW25
So I go out last night. I haven't been on a date in awhile and I wanted to make it really special. She's a nice girl after all, and I'm a nice guy. Well, I think I'm a nice guy. I dunno though.
Anyway, I take her to the most expensive restaurant in town. Good n' Frenchy. No, that's not the name of it, but it would be cool if it were.
I buy her roses. I dress up all shiny like and dabble on some smelly stuff even. The whole shebang with a lock stock and barrel thrown in, wholesale.
The evening goes wonderfully. I enjoy her company. I think she enjoys mine. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn't. But I'm a nice guy, right? I can handle disappointment.
The evening ends. It ends much sooner than I'd have wanted. She has a backache and needs to go home. This isn't necessarily an excuse, she was out shoveling snow all afternoon and believes she pulled something. For the moment, we shall assume that she's being legit here and not about to claw her eyes out from sheer boredom. I could accept the latter though, because, as we all know, I'm a nice guy. Nice guys handle defeat with aplomb.
Casually, I ask her if I could have a goodnight kiss. I hope for the best. I brace myself for disappointment. I look into her eyes and try to gauge a reaction. I'm a nice guy here and nice guys don't go begging. They're too nice after all.
But she leans in, gives me a quick kiss, and she's on her way.
So ends the date.
So begins my dilemma.
For, you see, nice guys aren't all nice. Deep beneath the calm exterior lies an Id, an ego, and a superego all with knives to each other's throat. Mr. Hyde is there and he bribes his way to the forefront. The Grinch is there, anally raping Cupid, sans lube.
And the conversation to myself begins.
"That was a really nice date. I like her," Nice Ender says.
"Damnit boy, are you a total schmuck? She just used you," Evil Ender replies.
"She didn't use me. I invited her out to dinner."
"You spent $75 for the entire evening and you got a kiss on the lips so quick, scientists couldn't measure it in nanoseconds."
"I didn't invite her out so I could get some action. I invited her out for her company."
"Yeah, her company in your bed tomorrow."
"That's enough, Evil Ender. The money I spent had no strings attached. There were no obligations. That would be extremely rude."
"Pussy."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, pussy."
"I am not a pussy. I'm a gentleman. I chose the expensive restaurant. I chose to buy her roses. I regret nothing."
"Yeah. Same with Custer. You're a pussy. pusspusspusspusspuss."
"Quiet you! I am a gentleman and I do not use financial resources to guilt a lady into doing something she feels uncomfortable with."
"Oh yeah? Well she felt comfortable ripping you off for $75. You like them apples? Because that's the closest you're gonna get to a total screw tonight, Bucky boy."
"I will hear no more of this, Evil Ender. She'll be romantic with me when she's comfortable. Maybe on our second date."
"Have I died and gone to la la land? Wake the fuck up, buddy. There ain't gonna be a second date. You are the weakest link, goodbye."
The battle wages onward. No clear victor has been determined as of yet.
Posted 2/2/02