I don’t have a lot of experience with dating and relationships, I’ll admit that right off the bat. I’ve been asked out by guys a total of two times in my life— or at least, after grade school, when it actually counted. In both cases we had been friends first, though in neither case was I actually interested in a romantic relationship. One of the guys was a pretty nice guy. The other one was pretty much a Nice Guy. And here I’ll explain the difference.
Most people have probably heard the saying “Nice guys finish last.” It’s something that Nice Guys take to heart. It’s practically their motto, right behind “Women only want jerks!” You see, the reason they can’t get dates, they tell themselves, couldn’t possibly be any personal failing of their own. It’s women’s problem that they can’t see what a fine specimen of man they are.
(Here’s a hint for anyone who read that last paragraph and was nodding along: if everyone you meet seems to have the same problem with you, maybe it isn’t them that has the problem.)
Nice Guys often befriend women, going by the adage that a good relationship comes out of a good friendship. Of course, there isn’t anything inherently wrong with forming a relationship out of an established friendship, but entering into a friendship with a romantic relationship as your primary goal seems a bit dishonest.
These Nice Guys will always be their for their special friend, to comfort her when her heart is broken by “jerks,” to listen when she’s having a problem, to offer hugs when she’s in need. And in return, they feel as if they’re owed something. Be it sex, be it a date, whatever: they’re entitled to it for being “such a good friend.”
This is patently bullshit. Being a good friend entitles you to good friendship in return, and nothing more. In fact, there is nothing that entitles anyone to a woman’s (or man’s, for that matter) affections. Romantic feelings aren’t exactly something that can be demanded: they have to develop naturally. As much it may suck to feel those kinds of affections for someone who doesn’t return them, that’s just a part of life.
In my case, the Nice Guy was a fellow student in one of my classes. I was a freshman, and he was a sophomore. We struck up a friendship while chatting after class one day, and since it was latish evening, we decided to head to dinner together. For the next few weeks we would eat together after class, or sometimes on the weekends, often chatting for hours about our common interests. Sometimes I would invite him up to my dorm room, but we never did anything but talk.
From early on I was anxious that he was perhaps expecting something more out of this relationship than I was, but since he hadn’t brought it up, I didn’t either. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he asked me out.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I insisted, in the time-honored tradition of “letting a guy down easy” (because if a woman were to simply say “No, I’m not interested in you that way,” she’s a bitch). “I’m just not really interested in dating at all.” All true, but actually not really any of his business.
“I’m pretty disappointed,” he said, which isn’t unreasonable: it’s natural to feel a little bummed when you’re rejected. “I thought we had a lot in common.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just not interested.”
“You know,” he replied, “You’ve pretty much succeeded in destroying any attraction I had for you.”
That, my friends, is the hallmark of a Nice Guy. Now that I had spurned his advances, I was no longer of any use to him. After that moment, we were no longer friends, because what is the use in talking to me if it isn’t going to lead to anything more? (Well that and I’d kicked him to the curb once he’d truly shown his colors.) I can’t say I’m terribly disappointed that I never saw him again.
As for the second time, with the guy who was actually nice? We were friends for a long while beforehand. We hung out together, alone and in groups. We played games and watched movies together, we spent time in each other’s dorms. When he asked me out, I told him the same thing as before, “Sorry, but I really have no interest in dating.” The difference this time was, while he was disappointed, he respected my agency in my decision. He didn’t push. He didn’t tell me I was suddenly completely unattractive. While we don’t talk nearly as much as we used to now that we’re out of school, we are still friends.
And that’s the difference between being a Nice Guy, and being a nice guy.
I Was a Teenage Misogynist 