‎"The goal of life is not to eliminate misery. It's to keep misery to the minimum."

Past loves are like past lives.

What happened to all the nice guys?

The answer is simple: you happened.

See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you.

At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were “just friends.” Besides, he totally wasn’t your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too poor, or didn’t know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish, douchebag boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease.

Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren’t the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you’re single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and douche bags, you wonder, “What happened to all the nice guys?”

Well, once again, you happened.

You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive “just-a-” friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren’t really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you’re upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he’d have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an asshole than he ever wanted to be.

Fact is, now, he’s probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I’m sorry that it took the complete absence of “nice guys” in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that.

So, if you’re looking for a nice guy, here’s what you do:

1.) Build a time machine.

2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your ass.

3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab ahold of it.

I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you.

If you were five years younger...

So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you’ve fucked yourself over. You’re getting older, after all. It’s time to excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn’t want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn’t fucking want you, now. Just saying.

Sincerely,

A Recovering Nice Guy.

Breaking even

I think a couple of the wires in my heart are broke.

Milk.

I don't know what's lovelier, the sound you make when my fingers crawl across your skin, or your persistence to keep me within driving distance. The obviousness of our incompatiblity hasn't gone unnoticed but we forge ahead like thieves in the twilight. You steal kisses off my lips and i hide away the whispers you leave behind on your pillow after a night's session behind closed doors. Leaving you isn't quite the same as running away but that fleeting feeling is all the same. Soon the little drops of anguish will fall off the edge of the bed and start to run together and wash over us. Though far off in the distance, some sort of demise is inevitable. A climactic end to a rise in instances where the night begins with my hands meeting together behind the small of your naked back.

Maybe it's the lilt in your smile highlighted by the invading light of a new morning. Or maybe it's the delicate fists clenched around my jacket collar. Something keeps me from leaving you alone...

And I'm leaving behind more then articles clothing. Every night I shed my inhibitions, I cast a little bit of of my soul behind. And I know your collecting the pieces, tucked away in a sturdy box hidden away in your corner nightstand for future reference.

I'm playing the fool but I'm playing it with purpose so as to resolve what the fateful intentions are of this tryst we've gotten ourselves into. Because it's endured, its endured love that wasnt originally for you, its endured my own expectations, and endured long enough to the extent that I have none left to which I can use for comparison. It's lasted so long that I've even started running out of words and I don't think I have enough left to properly finish what my sinful intentions started.

"There are certain things in life where you know it's a mistake but you don't really know it's a mistake because the only way to really know it is a mistake is to make that mistake and look back and say, 'Yup, that was a mistake'. So really, the bigger mistake would be to not make the mistake because then you'll go your whole life not really knowing if something is a mistake or not."

Genius

"Theres always a large gap between my expectations...

...and reality."

Ive got dreams to remember...

Love the otis redding intro.

her morning elegance...

idk but this fucking song has been stuck in my head for days...