Where did you go, Mr Nice Guy?

When I first met you, you were just that – “Nice”.  Don’t get me wrong, it was very splendid meeting you but my heart never skipped a beat, not even a flutter. Back then that’s what I thought I needed. I had to fall head over heels or there was no chance. Love at first sight and all those long forgotten clichés.  So I smiled and politely shook your hand and by the time we released our grip, I was already thinking about what I was going to wear to my high school grad dance. 

Years later I ran into you over and over in various places, cities, countries and venues. And again my heart remained steady and there was no flicker of anything. However this time I considered you twice.  I could use a male friend like you. You make me feel good, you’re honest and you will be my guy-guide through the dating landscape. So we probably became friends and you probably always hoped there would be something more one day and I probably hoped that we would always be great pals. 

You saw me through all these dating disasters and listened endlessly and patiently to a litany of complaints about how terrible men are, how the good ones are taken or gay, how it’s not me – it’s them, how there were no good guys left. And you probably shook your head in frustration. But being the good guy you are, you let me go on and on and never said a word. You just sat there silently, supporting me and agreeing that he really is a jerk and he’ll be sorry that you’re gone. I needed that. 

But as time went on, I got tired of the challenge and the heart palpitations soon turned into anxiety attacks, stress and stabbing fear that I was being deceived.  And where were you when all that went on? Right there – were you had always been. And you were probably thinking “why do nice guys always finish last?”

One day I woke up and you were gone and all I had left was the same old options, the same bad habits and the same destructive dating patterns. It was then I realized that I’m tired of the tough guy, the rebel, the model cum actor types. I didn’t feel like always having to put on an air or try to impress. I’m getting older and I’m getting tired.  I’d happily ditch my heels for flip flops in a heart beat.  It was then that I realized I wanted you, a nice guy. I could be myself around you. I could wear whatever I wanted, say whatever I wanted and do whatever I wanted because you had always let me be myself and you had always cherished who my true self was. You adored me no matter what and didn’t make me jump through hoops and always leaving me wondering what you were really up to when I wasn’t around. The pressure was never to be perfect - the pressure from you was to be myself. 

Love is blind, I was blind and sometimes aren’t we all? So in my blindness you grew tired of being my wing man when all you wanted was to be my main man. Silently one day you left. You probably met someone worthy of you and settled down to have a great, down to earth, honest and fulfilling life. I’m the sorrier for that. 

Now I spend my days looking for you but all I can seem to find are the wrong ones, the guys I wasted so much time trying to make it work with.  Now you’re not just the nice guy – you’re the one who got away, the holy grail of mates and when you thought nice guys finished last I have to say – at least you finish. And you leave us in your dust wishing we had only opened our eyes sooner.