The So-Called Nice Guy's Potemkin Village

Here’s a rant: it is shiny and new.
Have you seen this “Nice Guys Finish Last” essay that floats around the internet, pasted into the web-logs and live-journals of many people? No, not the song by Green Day, either. It’s this long little delivery about how nice guys never get girls and how girls only date assholes and ignore the nice guys and blah, blah, et cetera, et cetera. It’s been around for a few years now, probably, and I’ve seen it at least a dozen times in separate reprints. Let me now share with you, my scarce readers, how utterly disgusted and revulsed I am. Allow me to divulge why this little, innocent essay rekindles a small flame of hatred in my heart for mankind — specifically, teenage boys.
. . . I think I need to take a moment to actually muster up the energy that this tiny rage of mine necessitates . . .
Fuck you, you little douche-bag pussies. That’s right, fuck you, and I reserve the derogatory definition of “pussy” for very special occasions, but believe me when I say that this occasion more than merits the usage. Fuck you and your little whining, your little teary circle-jerks to what you rationalise as a righteous complaint against the mythical unfairness of the entire female gender, which is nothing more than your pathetic shortcomings as a human being hitting you in the face.
What kind of a fucking friend secretly reserves feelings of lust and desire the entire time that you supposedly sit around and listen and “be there?” What kind of stupid, fucking friend are you when every time your so-called female “friend” goes out and gets a date that isn’t with you, that you have little, tragic pangs in your heart and shed a miniature tear in the name of her “bad judgement” and “future hurt?” Oh, oh God, oh no, she’s overlooking you because you’re “the friend” and you’ll never be “the boyfriend” and so all the time you spent actually consoling her and being a shoulder to cry on or whatever was wasted. Certainly, of course, it was never just a service of humanity delivered in good name upon a person — a woman — in need, and curse her to the Seven Hells for thinking so. Yes, she has certainly wronged you for treating you as a friend when you approach her as a friend, talk to her as a friend, and interact with her as a friend.
You know what: fuck you for being a raging idiot and throbbing pussy with no balls. You want to date her? You want to go out with her? You want to fuck her tiny brains out? Ask for it, idiot. You stupid, cowardly, spineless douche, you clammy, unclean, lonely, masturbating drama queen, you two-faced, duplicitous, deceptive, underhanded, self-motivated, selfish, conniving, scheming, weak-willed, retarded asshole. That’s right, you are an asshole, too; not just the “bad guys” that your precious female-friend — the centre of your hidden affection and secret lusting — goes out with and actually joins in sex.
Do you want her to “come to her senses” and “see the error of her ways” or “come around to the light side of the Force” or whatever? Ask her the bloody hell out, then, you wormy pod-child. If you had before, and she had said she just wanted to be friends, than far be it from me to be the one to point out the fact that you are always going to be friends. Resign yourself to the fact that she does not want you. She doesn’t like you as an object of desire, and maybe she’s stupid and has bad taste in men. Maybe you’re a fuck-head for hanging out with that kind of girl, then, and expecting her to change in the light of your awesome deeds of chivalry and valour. Did you expect her to suddenly go from a jock-humping slut to a decent, discriminating princess when she saw how “nice” you were? You fucking dumbass.
Do nice guys finish last? No, they don’t bloody finish last by any bleeding predetermined, unnamed force of God damn nature. They finish where they finish because that’s the fuck where they wanted to finish. I’m nice — believe it or not — and I treat my friends, male or damn female, with respect and compassion. If a female friend I have is crying to me about something that has blatantly hurt her, is the thought on my mind, “Oh, ho, this is my chance to get into her panties, now!” No, you miniscule-minded tadpole, because I’m friends with the women I want to be friends with and I ask out the women I want to go out with, in the first God damn place. I don’t reserve my longing and desire for long, sleepless nights staring, pitifully and passionately, at the phone, thinking to myself about how I should call her and tell her how I feel, but I — Oh, Lord! — just can’t! Fuck you people, hardcore-exploitation-style.
Argh, you weasely little slimy bastards make me sick. If you’re hanging out with some stupid bitch who dates idiots that continually hurt her, then tell her she’s being a stupid cunt. If you want to date this woman, then maybe you should revaluate exactly the kind of woman you’re looking for to be part of your life, hm? Perhaps, a girl who has terrible discrimination when it comes to who she wraps her vagina around is not the best kind of girl there is out there, huh? And I don’t want to hear about how she’s just been disillusioned her whole life or whatever, and how she simply never had the chance to be with a “nice guy,” because, as the essay itself bloody says, the nice guy is right there. She’s not blind, she doesn’t miss the mouth-breathing cretin clinging to her shadow like a lost, abused puppy, waiting for the next tidbit of drama to erupt so he can hold her and fantasise that she’s naked, eager to get home alone so he can furiously jerk-off to the thought of her breasts pressed up against his chest — no, she does not not see you, dick-wad. She’s not attracted to you, because you’re a wretched, simpering dweeb. And I don’t care how awesome you are, you immediately lose my respect when you trail some girl around allowing her to use you in any manner she feels fit to use you and, later, sit around and mope about not getting sex. You SUCK.
. . . And now, I will take a moment to wind down from that rant, thank you . . .
The conclusion here is this: if you like a girl, ask her out. Don’t just be her friend because the nigh-invisible hope that she’ll suddenly notice you in a different light may exist, because I guarantee you — just like how the essay says — that it won’t happen. If you like a girl, see, what you have to do is admit it to her and, then, from there, let her judge how she will process and respond to this information. I can tell you, out of experience, that it will not always, if ever, result in a positive response; maybe she won’t choose to like you like how you view her, but that’s the way of life, my friend. My outlook on the whole ordeal of dating is that it requires an immense amount of patience and observation. The way I see it, the only other valid approach is primitive trial-and-error: ask, get rejected, ask, get a date, ask, get rejected, ask, get a date, and so forth. The key here, boys and girls, is that if you want to go out with someone, you ask them out. Period, end of story, no argument, I don’t want to hear it: that’s what you do, and that’s the only way to get results. If you cover your feelings up and just act like a friend, in the vain hope of something more ever occurring, then you’re being stupid. You are making a poor decision and it is nobody’s fault except your own that the relationship never goes anywhere. And it won’t.
So, don’t tell me that “nice guys finish last.” Don’t tell me it’s because you’re “nice,” and not an “asshole,” that you can’t get the girl of your dreams. It’s because what the asshole does is be very direct about his intentions: he asks and receives, as a result. The only difference between a good guy doing that, and a bad guy doing that, is that the good guy never uses a façade or lies to persuade the woman to say “yes.” So, don’t be the “nice guy” who thinks he’s supposed to just cling to the woman and be there for her and never, ever once mention that you like her as more than a friend. Be the real nice guy who is straightforward about what he wants, displaying what is commonly referred to as “a smidgeon of confidence,” and ask her the bloody hell out. If you sit there, quiet, you’ll forever rot away as her friend, and nothing more, because that is all that you are displaying you want. You can’t expect the woman to read your mind and know that you are only being her friend to eventually get into her panties, you sick, sad man. If that’s what you’re going to do, though, anyway, despite any logic or common sense, then shut the fuck up about not going anywhere.
Nice guys don’t finish last. Spineless cowards do, you infernal bitches.

Adios.