This is my tribute to the nice girls. The nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends & nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities & their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong.For the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug & a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times.For the girls who understand that they aren't perfect & that the guys they're interested in aren't either, For the girls who flirt & laugh & worry & obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope thatmaybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud & often, who are comfortable in skirts, sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention.For those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time & time again fake up and make up & shit up the guys in their lives without saying a word. For the girls who have been there from the beginning & have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on, who have sought a night with friends & been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments & explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced.This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. For the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time & time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. For the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. For the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words, kisses & touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. For the girls who have allowed a guy into their head, heart & bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. For the girls who have had their hearts broken & their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word, syllable & inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. For the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. For the night you realized that it would never happen, & the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. For the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful, intelligent, amazing, loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; For the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow &your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used & abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. For the girls who have been satisified with too little & who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question & whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them &belittle them &don't appreciate them & don't want them; who use them for sex & think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested, compelling, who are intelligeny, sweet, smart & beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting& intelligent, sweet, beautiful & smart girls, were you to give her your number & wait for her to call & if you were to receive a call from her the next day & she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent a& straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing, attractive, interesting & worth her time & perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you &wore her heart on her sleeve & told the truth? Would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, & once again return to the bar or club or party scene & search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: &when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing. we might say we like the attention, we might blush, giggle & turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt & flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone & I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time, energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend. but in return, we're looking for compassion, loyalty & trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores, the sluts &the easy-targets. the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water, towels & a congradulatory hug ( a nice girl wont let the sweatiness matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race. So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes & make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have eachother, that silly race to watch, &all the chocolate we can eat .
