Women Don’t Want Nice Guys. They Want Sweet Guys (REVISED)
[And why Men are either terrified of being mislabeled — or just too stupid to know (or care) what the difference is]
(original publishing date: January 6, 2020)
Anyone attracted to anyone knows that if you desperately needed a reason to break the 4th wall (currently exclusive to anything not in real life) in real life, it would be the lifeline for an answer to help you out. To give you that advantage only structured in the types of game shows where everyone watching wants you to win, but couldn’t give two fucks if you lose.
What separates two guys who appear to be the same thing on the surface? — Two “Different” guys who “appear” to be the same thing but are, in fact, dramatically different. Nice guys and Sweet guys are the same thing. That’s the consensus. That’s what I’ve been told. Well, pardon my honesty but Fuck You. Nice guys and Sweet guys are NOT the same. Not by a long shot.
When I think of the default description of what makes a nice guy a certified “Nice guy” it’s this fantasy of a girl he obviously likes rightfully informing him “…You’re a nice guy…” as in, “unfortunately, you’re a nice guy.” And who could blame her? I couldn’t. That is unfortunate. For his sorry ass.
There’s this ongoing belief that “nice guys” aren’t really nice guys and that they’re really just jerks with sexual expectations of women in exchange for their “niceness.” This can be true in many cases… Sort of. Many of these “nice guys” were once genuinely nice guys at some point but have been overtaken by bitterness and cynicism due to their repeated rejections from women that reach a certain point to where the rejections become perpetual. Worse than infinite. Just spiraling them into a level of self-loathing that they have never known. They’re no longer fragile — they’re actually quite the opposite. If they take just one more step in ANY direction, and that one step accidentally lands them in dogshit, that’s it. They are from now on borderline supervillain material.
So, on any list of potential problems for “Nice guys,” just go on ahead and put Women at #1. Let’s not kid ourselves. Once that other less considerate guy she likes is through getting hated for everything, it’s almost always the women’s fault (according to “nice guys,” right?). Ok. Sure. Women won’t see these men’s strengths enough to be attracted to them and instead can be almost certain to lack interest when they remove the velvet rope blocking men entirely from their availability. It’s not so much that women prefer jerks as much as it is that this “nice guy” has a habit of always appearing to be… just… slightly “Off,” especially when she shows interest elsewhere, removing all current possibilities of being attracted to a nice guy as easily as other men who seem not-so-nice — at least, to the Exhibit A: Nice Guy.
And what’s so bad about rejection? It happens all the time… ALL. THE. TIME. It’s an important tool that can conveniently lead to a good concussion after hitting yourself in the back of the head with it. And to help shape you as an individual. It’s refreshing. It’s a solid reminder that not everybody likes you (incase you didn’t know that already) and especially when learning that life can feel like an endless disappointment but… for how long? Well, in this rant (See how I broke the 4th wall right there, I’m so clever?) Patience is not so much just simply a virtue as it has always been before.
Nowadays, Patience is more like having the force. It’s like having a superpower that you didn’t ask for… but you supposedly have it… and then you find out that you don’t have it… and then supposedly you had it all along but it only works when it feels like it (for now, at least). And though this particular superpower is not fictional… it has its cons (because of course it does). Can too much patience for too long also kill one’s drive? Does that even qualify as a clear question? Yes. Absolutely. Too much Patience can allow “You” to expire, along with your motivations, if you become too comfortable waiting for something that you (and Only You) absolutely know is worth waiting for.
And this is some new breed of human monsters in-disguise — that these “nice guys” have become. They don’t know what Patience is and what it entails and how all determination can save you time without testing your patience as hard as you would without it — but here’s where the nice guys really fail: Their priorities. And THEIR motivations. Something called empathy — that can let people know that you’re most definitely human and that you commonly remove yourself in order to feel for others that have problems that aren’t anything like your’s. Because: Your problems. To me, It’s no contest. I would absolutely bet money, money that I don’t have, on what I believe is the grand champion, the “Rocky Balboa,” of first-world problems: Nobody loves me, and I Don’t Get Laid. Ever. (Pause for delayed shock… collect yourselves… now to respond with something desperately profound…)
Aw. Tragic. I feel for ya, bro.
Unless one “nice guy” is feeling that way while also packing an incredible accomplishment of sorts, like, Winning the Nobel Peace Prize… or maybe the “Nice guy” has a vital role connected to something having to do with the solving of world hunger, or even if he’s one of those very scarce few who’ve travelled outside of the earth’s atmosphere without a passport — that’s cool too, brah… but you know something? There’s a bit of a problem. If Sympathy were a person, it wouldn’t be their purpose to feel for you, that would be their job. And it costs extra.
Here’s the problem. You see, The “Nice Guy” has taken it upon himself to compete in a contest. A contest that he can’t win. Again, The “Nice Guy” has decided to compete in a contest of such impossibilities, that He and only He, has agreed to compete in.
The “sweet guy,” or, guy that is void of all sourness that both you and most people can taste, is many things that a “Nice guy” is Not. And also things that You’re not. And it’s not just simply an enhanced personality that knows when to be quiet. The guy labeled “sweet” has been the rightful earner and humble winner of a valuable title that actually means something. And… there’s “something more” about him…
One immediate difference in description that separates a “Sweet Guy” from a “Nice Guy:” the genuine pleasure a woman can display when describing someone as “sweet.” Calling a guy a “Nice Guy” especially to his face, is like the kiss of death. We all know EXACTLY what it means. It’s like when an average guy — who knows he’s average, mind you — sincerely believes that he also might be “special” to someone who’s above average. He’s not. He’s a fucking idiot. And as rare as it is for a woman to use the term “Sweet Guy,” it would not have a fragment of the impact of “Nice Guy.” In fact, she’s much more likely to use “Sweet” as a description. Helplessly telling a guy directly, “You’re sweet…” indicates he’s not just a simple adjective come-to-life. He’s not a coat rack. He’s not an ottoman. He’s sweet. He has a positive, likable personality trait, in addition to many others.
The “Sweet Guy” is (how should I put this?)… He’s kind of a dick, but he means well. A Sweet Guy is still a potential jerk and maybe even an asshole on a regular basis. But he’s not a “complete asshole.” He’s an asshole with a conscience. A sweet guy isn’t going to throw down and unleash all bitterness at women because he can’t obtain something in return for his “niceness” that involves some kind of fucking. He’s cold on the surface but has a heart that can also melt your’s if you would just please tell all of those reprehensible people — That are barely people — people that she calls her “friends,” to quit posting sweaty nightclub pictures on social media of him appearing to coexist with “the gang,” “the dames ,” (to the sweet guy, they’re an SNL sketch. They’re “The Gap Girls”) — taking pictures of him without his “Sweet” title to lend his approval — pictures that prove forever where he was, on that one night — and pictures that he didn’t ask to be in — and his face in said pictures indicates he’s being held hostage with the single-loudest, most annoying people on earth: The Gap Girls. Pigs With Lipstick. And he’s stuck with them all night for no other reason aside from the fact that the woman he’s seeing just so happened to attend high school with two of these women — and ruiners: of all things subtle. So yeah… He’s a survivor.
Then the following morning, at whichever one of their apartments they stumbled into first — the night before… and as soon as they both groggily get up from bed just to instantly park themselves at the nearest laptop. Together, they both run a complete analysis of the pictures now posted on social media. The “Sweet Guy” says (with a mostly straight-kept face — he doesn’t crack up), “ your girlfriends look fatter than ever… do you really need to be around them and their sloth to convince you you’re beautiful?” And it’s both when and how he says this, deep down, the woman he’s sitting next to… knows he’s telling the truth. And she feels differently connected with him than she does with, well, almost everyone else. It occurs to her that the “Sweet Guy” is not like other guys. She did not even have the slightest of suspicions of his disdain for The Gap Girls while they were “alcohol social-setting” with them the night before (except when she saw his face in the pictures they force-posted on social media but that’s a whole ‘nother story). The two of them, sitting at the laptop together can just laugh at that now. And to the “Sweet Guy,” that situation is hardly a parking ticket.
Because Once it’s over — and until next time.
The “Sweet Guy” is hardly even phased. And she confirms that this person that is sitting next to her is pretty much the same person that he always is… even when no one’s looking. The surprise… is that he’s real. And no one else is.
But wait — there’s more! The “Sweet Guy” comes with many actions and buttons and additional features, etc.
The “Sweet Guy” can also play a “nice guy” full-time for your fellow idiots — but without breaking character, and he’ll do it all just for you. A “sweet guy” has talent, without possessing an obnoxious knack for charm because even though he complains about the smell of your parents’ house and their mixed enthusiasm for him — he, for three hours, is “ — wait why are we here again? What holiday are we celebrating today? What if I forget everyone’s name? — “ Anyway, he’s going to give it his best. It’s the attempt at effort that counts. The “Sweet guy” can put on that one-man show of wholesomeness that he knows isn’t because he likes you or anything. And on that same drive over to your parents’ house for Christmas, you know he was serious because he concluded the conversation with his best, “I’m serious.” Or, So he says. A sweet guy suffers. He suffers well. Better than most guys pretend to. Simply because… he isn’t (pretending, that is).
Pretending to be someone you’re not… or at least pretending not to be the exact person you truly are… is something that all of us have to do at one point or another before we know exactly when it’s safe to jump out of a moving vehicle that’s never going to come to a complete stop without eventually killing us first — and I do mean US, as in Us. Men. Guys. Fellas. We’re desperate most of the time… (in case you didn’t know that already)
However, it’s “ who” one “Pretends” for, that separates the nice guys from the sweet. As it’s famously known, the “nice guy” always gets fucked in the end, and rightfully so… but not in the way that HE was hoping for. The nice guy is a tragic figure. That sad fuck that you know you’re supposed to feel sorry for, but you don’t. I wonder why that is.
Well — Not really, because I’ve been both of these guys before.
The “nice guy” falls hard, and when he does, while on his trip and fall down the long, never ending stairwell to the fiery abyss, Subteenth layer of Hell (The layer of: “No Pussy left. Especially, for Nice Guys”) —
Meanwhile, the “Sweet Guy” is at the top of the stairwell, eating a Turkey Club I suppose, and standing outside of the walk way. It’s what he does. As the “nice guy” falls, the “sweet guy” indirectly informs, “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE CARED SO MUCH… ABOUT THE WRONG THING. AT THE WRONG TIME.” Wow. What a prize. He just fucking gets it.
The “Sweet Guy” who casually vomits wisdom without condescension all over the place and doesn’t even think about cleaning it up. Because that’s a Nice Guy’s job. He’s the janitor mopping shit up around here. And it’s aaaaalll good for “nice guys” — If They can learn from it, that is. They don’t need advice but they do need a reboot.
And then… The “nice guy” doesn’t finish dead last after all, but he does finish without the anticipation of having sex in the end, with whoever he believes he might not had to have felt entitled to. Nor does he have to finish with anyone else, except his hand, of course. There’s definitely some unguided loneliness when he’s jerking it.
The “Nice Guy” is truly concerned (or at least he thinks he is). At this point in his life, he does care about… something… like, how much more “niceness” fuel does he have left in his antiself-destruct tank? How much of said “Niceness” is genuine, and what does it mean to have patience again…? It’s just ALL too much. It’s too hard. He needs a break from relentless rejection because he doesn’t know yet that it’s the single biggest problem that no one cares about but A single person.
You know what? Good. Fuck ‘em. He deserves to be the “nice guy.”
So it’s around here, that the “sweet guy” assures the “nice guy,” that although the nice guy’s groundwork was most definitely helpful for pretty much anyone’s benefit except said “Nice Guy’s,” it was ultimately unnecessary, and that he (the “sweet guy”) will “TAKE IT FROM HERE,” slamming the stairwell door behind the “Nice guy” because — again — Fuck ‘Em. That’s what he gets for being indecisive while also being deceptive after accepting the “Nice” role. And he also likes to resort to being a professional victim simply when someone won’t touch him. What a douche.
And he’s everywhere. The Nice Guy. At your job, at the grocery store, at every 5 Star restaurant (because that’s how way-too-hard he tries and it shows), at the strip club (because that’s the only place left to go after she denies him by closing the front door in his face), and on Tinder! Holy — Fucking — TitFarms! Are the nice guys ever swarming on Tinder, they’re like an infestation. I’ll talk to a bot any day, over the simple “befriending” of a “nice guy” on a dating app (because my settings always purposefully have me interested in “Everyone”).
I stand by this statement: — The Sweet Guy wins every time because he doesn’t need to believe that he can win a contest that he didn’t even know he entered, or to vaguely represent something that doesn’t seem like it’s just a bonus for putting up with whatever inconvenience necessary to satisfy his conscience. — It’s genuine. It’s attractive. He’s The Sweet Guy. Don’t waste his time and he won’t waste yours. Or, Do waste his time and… he still won’t waste your’s because he has other important shit that’s going on in his life and he can’t really hold a grudge for too long.
Those issues that need attention, The Sweet Guy can even put on an… almost foolproof happy face when helping others. Sometimes. When he helps old ladies across the street, he does it because it’s the right thing to do before he helps them into an Uber. After that, he could care less what happens to them. They’re old. They’re slow. They shouldn’t think that they can still do all the same shit that they used to back in their heyday (at heart, the sweet guy just might possibly be an ageist) but — whatever. He did his part and he helped. He doesn’t need the acknowledgement. He doesn’t need a medal. Or a surprise blowjob (no, he doesn’t but… he won’t stop you from giving him one). He’s not in it strictly for someone he has a crush on to notice and then it’s that simple, 2 + 2 = Pussy. If it were that easy, everyone would have it — which is why when it comes to any average, typical, I’m-horny-all-the-time-but-damnit-there-must-be-something else-I-can-pursue-instead GUY: getting Pussy is something that should really just be an afterthought when it comes to your PRIORITIES… Unless of course you’re famous or something. Then it’s all understood.
And with the “sweet guy’s” motivations and priorities in a place both rational and responsible, his unofficial charm(?) is infectious, it gains notice, and he ultimately gets more (WAY more) than that one agonizing counter productive mentality from those known as “nice guys.”
I guess someone out there has to claim the type that feels sorry for themselves because their dishonesty came with the best intentions. It happens.
The “nice guy” will come around, women will want him as much as the guy who’s sweet… but only if and when he finally does evolve from the role of Helpless Human Puppy (with an axe to grind). And if not a single woman sees something in this now “post-nice guy…” and if the women he’s attracted to ALL for some reason remain uninterested in this “Nice Guy in-recession…” and they all so unfortunately still don’t want what “Guy Formerly Known As Nice Guy…” is now trying to sell to them…
Then he should try dating men instead. It might solve everything.
