soignee wrote...
I am not talking about adjusted, nice men. I'm talking about Nice Guy Syndrome.
I knew a Nice Girl once. We were friends for a couple of months, and very early on I thought I felt like, tension. I told her I wasn't looking for that, and she said that wasn't what she was hoping to hear, but she was cool with that. But then she invited me to a party, and when she introduced me to her friends, they were all like, "Oh, so you're so-n-so!" in that really weird tone of voice. Y'know the one. There's implication.
I just told myself I was being paranoid. But I kept showing up to her apartment and there would be things like a candlelit meatloaf dinner when we were just supposed to be watching a DvD. I kept on telling her for weeks that I just wanted to be friends, is that cool? and she would be like, yeah, that's cool.
I asked her at the point when I thought thing were really bad, "Please, could we just be friends? Go back a few steps? I feel like you've emotionally gone in a different direction than me." And she replied that she didn't think she could be just friends. So I thought about it and said I was sorry, but I couldn't hang out with her anymore.
THEN things got crazy. I wanted to leave the apartment, I was getting physically restrained and kissed in what I think she thought was a very dramatic way like in the movies but was actually sort of scary. Which is a feat, because I'm not a small dude. And there was this really, really un-PC thought I had at the time, but I was like, "Whoa! I thought having male privilege meant not having to fear for my safety like this!" Please don't kill me.
I stumbled out of her apartment, sans my flannel shirt. Later she messaged me and told me she was wrong, she could totally go back to being friends. I said I thought that was a bad idea, and that I thought she was a nice girl but we should both just acknowledge that sometimes things get too weird. She got very insistent, she was my friend, she needed my friendship, she knew we really had a great rapport, blah blah blah.
Anyway, montaging the rest, I got eight months of text messages that rapidly oscillated between really angry/mean to really conciliatory to occasionally really bad, drunk sounding poetry. It was strange because it seemed like a lot of effort towards a friendship (or whatever she wanted) that was obviously six feet under. I am not really a handsome dude. I have no idea what happened. But there are sections of town I actually avoid now.
*turns to self*
tl; dr, but cool story bro
*turn to other self*
eff off, jerk
*turns back to self*
wharrgarbl
EDIT: Top of page.
Modifié par sleepingbelow, 16 mai 2010 - 02:11 .




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