Nice People Suck

Here’s the problem I have with nice people. When I was in my 20s and battling low self esteem, anytime a woman hit on me, no matter how blatant it was, I just assumed she was a really nice person or just being polite. Now I’m in my 30s, still battling low self esteem, but now every time a woman is nice to me, I think she’s hitting on me. I’m kind of a professional asshole and I surround myself with professional assholes (most of whom are amateur artists… go figure) so nice people, particularly nice women, throw me off my game.  

 

With me you always know where you stand. I’m such a jerk that if I go out of my way to be nice to you and you are the proud owner of a vagina, there’s a good chance I’m into you. It doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to fuck you, but that I probably wouldn’t turn you down if you offered.

 

Case in point: I’m at a party and I see this really hot girl I know on the other side of the room. She’s really hot. California wild fires hot, and unlike most really hot girls that I find myself around, she’s a really nice person. My first impulse is to walk over to her and say hello. My second impulse, the one that I follow, is not to. Every once in a while, I look over and see if she’s still there. Then all of a sudden she’s gone. I’m embroiled in a conversation with someone else when I feel someone put their arm around me. This never happens, so I assume I’m being mugged. Just when I’m about to take a defensive posture, I look and see that it’s said hot chick. This is the kind of thing you can do when you’re a really hot chick, just walk up behind a muffucka, put your arm around him and whatnot; doesn’t cost you anything. Maybe she made a special trip over to talk to me, maybe she was just working the room and I was a stop on the circuit. At the time I think nothing of it; we have a pleasant conversation and move on.

 

Three days later, I wonder, is this chick into me? I mean, I know this chick will never sleep with me. I’m 35, I’m way over that. What I probably won’t be over until I’m at least 40 is wondering whether or not she would fuck me under the right circumstances. You know: another time, another place, another her, another me. Like I said: low self esteem. Facts like this can have a severe impact on my world view and disposition.

 

Tell you a secret: the real reason I get involved with charities is that I have a pathetic desire to be part of something important to take my mind off myself. I figure Gandhi never sat around wondering what chicks were into him.