What It's Like To Get Blind-Sided By The 'Nice Guy'

Photo: fizkes / shutterstock
guy checking out woman at cafe

By Meganne MacFarlane

Dear “Nice Guy,”

I hope you understand why the term is in loose quotation marks. You actually made me think you weren’t a f***boy, getting offended when I threw the term around jokingly.

Now that I see you in your true form, I can’t believe how foolish I must have looked to you. How stupid I must have seemed for giving you a second chance when you messed up that one time.

I should have just left you then.

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I get wanting to rack up a kill count in college, but there are plenty of girls who are down for a hookup. We both knew that wasn’t me. At least, not anymore.

I must give you credit for the effort you put into getting to know me. You even drug out the whole charade for months; I would have lost interest after a few weeks.

That may be why I thought this was more than a fling, my mistake.

Kudos to you for getting to have a good comedy to tell your friends about. I’m glad I’m the leading lady in the play that was “The Nice Guy” that came to a bedroom near me, pun intended.

It baffles my mind how you could know I wanted to sleep with people that there was mutual caring for. You waited months to make your Netflix and Chill move on me.

You were a gentleman about the whole thing; again, why I was probably naively convinced that this actually meant something.

I’m slightly impressed at how dedicated you were to your role, making everyday gestures perfect for the part.

Asking me more about myself seemed endearing at first, but now I think it was just so you didn’t have to say much about your character.

The text messages with the perfect emoji that was slightly seductive, but not exactly eggplant level, made me think that you were okay taking things slow. I wonder if you knew I’d eventually give up what you were chasing.

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The phrase “nice guys finish last” definitely doesn’t apply, even for fictitious nice guys, if you catch my drift. You must have had your grand finale after I finally gave you what “nice guys” aren’t supposed to get.

You were nice about everything in person, but afterward, your texts became shorter and I was the one feeling annoying, pining over a guy that had only one interest in me.

You were like a snake just shedding into a colder, darker skin.

I can’t believe how long you had me fooled for. I wonder if you asked your friends what you should say, or if you read up on how to reply like a normal, non-sadistic person.

I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you, to refrain from your f***boy instincts. To actually let me meet your friends, invite me out in public, take me on dates, make plans for the upcoming months, it’s almost impressive.

At least you could commit to something.

I could tell in your final message that you were only saying sorry because you thought that’s probably what I wanted to hear. None of it sounded sincere.

That’s great that you found someone else, but please, if you’re just using her for another notch in your belt, make sure she doesn’t have feelings for you.

I don’t know if you get off on manipulating people and invading the most private parts of their lives, and then just leaving, making them beg for air.

You caused dams to break and left me to stare at the river that flowed from my eyes and surrounded me, knowing full well I couldn’t swim.

I just find it funny how you said you weren’t a f***boy and clearly were this whole time.

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Meganne MacFarlane is a creative writer whose work has been featured on Unwritten and All4Women. She writes on topics of gender, heartbreak, and relationships.

This article was originally published at Unwritten. Reprinted with permission from the author.