Dear Nice Guy,
Let’s talk about nice guy syndrome. I became cognizant of “nice guy syndrome” two or three years ago, when the saying “nice guys finish last” was hung from the highest mountains of privilege and lowest of men who could not fathom (generally) why a girl did not reciprocate feelings.
Often the story would go that a guy would start to pursue a girl, and then after getting to know each other for an average of *maybe* a week, the girl would appear to lose interest. Perhaps she started dating another guy, or perhaps she just went about her life that happened to revolve around many other different things, thank you very much.
Regardless, this victimized, rejected guy would walk back to his friends with his tail between his legs, and to alleviate his embarrassment he would reassure his friends that it wasn’t him, but her. “She just doesn’t like nice guys,” he would explain to his friends, who would blankly nod in agreement, thinking it logical that young women really just don’t like nice people.
This was the only possible explanation, unless of course a person was willing to turn their gaze upon themselves and consider what about them could be the cause of rejection. According to “nice guys,” girls always dated the “assholes”—men who were generally attractive, smart, nice (to that young woman at least), and clearly just more datable.
The trend “nice guys finish last” eventually died, or blissfully quieted to reside with only a few really special, ignorant souls that held onto their male privilege with a vigor I would admire if I did not pity them so. The trend took a new turn, insidiously informing the actions of boys and men alike, creating thus the “nice guys syndrome.”
I have found that men come to think of the world in terms of “nice guys” and “assholes.” The professed “nice guys” pride themselves on never cheating on women, or maybe doing it less often than other men they know. They champion their kind treatment of women and wish they could wear it like a crown, sometimes going so far as to congratulate themselves on being a feminist and treating their sweet, frail counterparts with the kindness and gentle care they deserve.
So then the “nice guy” finds himself in a relationship, and the world trembles a little learning that women are in fact not repulsed by human goodness. But somewhere upon the nice guy gingerbread road of gumdrops and cotton candy, the nice guy mistreats the girl he is seeing. Distraught, he offers his nice guy badge as a defense, pointing to circumstances or other excuses to blame. A nice guy is a nice guy—that’s the one thing he is sure of and prides himself on. Never has he considered that kindness and all human emotions are not stagnant and that maybe, just maybe, he isn’t that fucking nice.
Your actions are your actions, every single of one them, and you don’t get shit for being a “nice guy” if you don’t do nice things.
Nice guys of the world, I can guarantee you are not so if you insist you are. You are a man,who can do really nice things or really shitty things, depending on actions you continually make despite or in result of your circumstances. No human is indefinitely “kind.”
If she won’t date you, it’s not because you’re nice.
If you did something wrong, you are not right because you’re nice. Please understand.
XOXO,
Feminist Nightmare
Image Credit: Urban Dictionary, Giphy