Friday, November 30, 2007

Ode to the Nice Guys

This is an upper for those who deserve it (you know who you are). I sometimes wonder, do people read this and say, "Oh, I'm not that guy. I'm not the nice guy. I'm a mean guy." I'm certain there isn't anyone out there who truly says that. But I'm also certain there are many guys who do not deserve the following text. Many guys. So, please, if you aren't the kind of guy described in this narrative, don't suck any of the benefit out of this.

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all okay and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she ranted about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgment, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
Written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal

The words that flutter

Tell me, what is important to you? I can list off many things which have no significance to me; no meaning in my life. I'm certain many people can do this. But think for a moment; what really means something to you? What do you truly seek out in someone? Take any given situation - a crowded elevator, a ballpark, home alone in your room - who would you want to be with and why? This poem attempts to explain what means most me. Why don't you try and figure it out for yourself?

I do not care what car you drive or where you live.
If you know someone who knows someone who knows someone.
If your clothes are this years cutting edge.
If your trust fund is unlimited.
If you are A-list, B-list, or never-heard-of-you list.
I only care about the words that flutter from your mind.
They are the only thing you truly own.
The only thing I will remember you by.
I will not fall in love with your bones and skin.
I will not fall in love with the places you have been.
I will not fall in love with anything but the words that flutter from your extraordinary mind.
Author unknown

Two have passed

I've been told, read, and even seen first hand how people never change. The person you see now is the person you'll always see. Sure, there are habits one can break. There are many things people can stop doing to try and better themselves. But their characters almost never change.

People do change, however, slightly in the presence of others.
It's interesting to see how people can affect you. I've never experienced it first hand until recently. I have no image to hide, I am not afraid of who I am, that is not what I am saying. What I am saying is that there is a hidden side of everyone that is brought out in the right company. A side of myself I've never seen before, a side I truly enjoyed, was brought out recently.

My whole life I've never cried. Well, sure, that's a bit of a lie. I can honestly say, though, that I have cried very little. On rare occasion. I can think of a few moments in my life - very, very crucial moments - where I should have cried. I should have cried for hours, maybe even days. But I didn't. I didn't even cry.

I didn't shed a single tear when my grandfather passed away. My favorite pet which I grew up with for more than two thirds of my life passed away last summer, and I couldn't even cry then. I tried, oh how I tried! I would think of every favorite moment I spent with that animal, all the moments which I would never be able to live again, in desperate hopes that I would just explode into a sea of tears. But it didn't happen. It never did. And I knew it never would, either. That's probably the saddest part. I would never cry.

I remember thinking maybe deep down inside of me I felt that nothing was really important to me. Especially since I couldn't even cry during depressing, awful moments that life gives to you like those said above. I thought maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I had less of an emotional connection with things in this world. Then I started thinking the opposite. Maybe I was beyond emotional, into a new level of emotion and logic and reasoning. An intellectual stage of emotion where I saw past death and despair, sadness and anger and I would, and could, never be affected by them. I thought these things for a long time.

Then I went to college. Being surrounded by so many people... I found myself crying like I had a debt to pay up. 18 years of sorrow built up inside of me, ready to be released. I mean, I have never (yet) cried in public. Not in front of more than few people, at least. At night I would find it nearly impossible to stop the on coming rush of emotions. I don't really know what sparked it all. I guess it was just all of the people around me.

Especially one person. I can think of one person in particular.

The tears weren't of sadness, not all the time, at least. They were emotional tears. Emotions I had never felt until this point. And I was loving every second of it.

This is my blog, these are my thoughts

This is the very first post on my blog, as you are already well aware of, I'm sure.

At this point, I am not very certain how often I will update this blog. It may become an "of the moment" kind of deal, or I may become obsessed with it (as I have with many other things) and, therefore, frequently update it.

However, in the end, this is my blog, these are my thoughts.

I often find myself writing. Often times it comes sporadically; I'll be in class or at home studying and it'll just hit me. I'll grab a pen and some paper, or bust out my laptop, but either way, time willing, I'll be writing in moments. I've discovered that trying to hold back the urge to write only makes me want to write more. "It must be something important!" I think, "I don't want to lose my thoughts. Who knows if I'll ever think about this again." So, when it's time to write, it's time to write.

There have been times where I am in no place or situation where I will be able to write. I'll be walking back from class, or heading out to dinner. All of a sudden I'll become overwhelmed with some thoughts of new poetry or a new story. I'll keep running it through my head, but I know I lose a lot of it. It's a constant battle of trying to retain information; my mind wants to wander but I know if I do I'll forget important details I've already covered.

On this blog, I intend to write mostly events of my life and thoughts that have come up during the process, but I'm certain I'll occasionally attach some poetry and short literature. Often times it'll be written work I've stumbled upon, but I do plan on adding some of my own work on here.

People have been telling me for a long time that I should create a blog. Some place to post thoughts. Some place to express myself. Well, I guess this is it. I can't imagine a better time.

This is my blog, and these are my thoughts.