Mostly I have turned to the bad guy. The bad guy who excited me. The bad guy who gave me a thrill. The bad guy who I thought would change for me. He was a sexy adrenaline rush. One you would initially feel good about. One you would end up feeling bad about.
The bad guy made me feel ultra sexy. He made me feel ultra undesirable. It was a mixed bag of emotions that kept me on my toes; I was high on hoping that one day we’d be together properly, yet low on facing the reality that I was a side project.
I chose the nice guy a few times. He was always very attentive and caring. Yet at one point he felt like the bad guy; either in his actions towards me or the arrangement that we had initially.
This time, I chose the nice guy.
At first I was nervous. How does one treat the nice guy? The nice guy that texts you the morning after the first date? The nice guy that stays round to make out til 3am? The nice guy that waits til you initiate sex? It was an alien experience.
Just like Katy Perry’s E.T song, he infects you with his loving. All that there is to think about is how wonderful he is to you. He regularly wants to talk to you. He lets you know that he misses you. He comes over with a bouquet of the flowers he knows you like. There are no faults. You never imagined being in a relationship like this. He exceeds your expectations and makes you break all of your dating rules. And trust me, my dating rules are incredibly strict. The fact that he can break your rules makes him the most exciting guy you’ve ever met.
There aren’t any fuckboys that can compete with the Nice Guy. He might be a little shy, a little less confident, a little less forthright – yet all those things about him make him the cuter and better option in comparison to anybody else.
The nice guy loves me at my lowest. He came home one day to my body curled up under the covers, my eyes closed as sadness took over any ability to speak. He got into bed with me and held me. He kissed my head and stayed with me til I was ready to talk. When I was, he asked me if I was hungry, and then proceeded to cook dinner. We moved to the sofa, binge re-watched Breaking Bad as we ate under the duvet that he brought with us to the living room. He looks after me, and that is priceless.
When I’m drunk I tell him about how close I was to ending it all. He hides his face from me, concealing his sadness, and makes me feel even more loved than before. He doesn’t even know that his love is what saved me in the first place.
He unwillingly makes you feel unworthy of his love. He’s an absolute angel compared to you. You’ve had your share of bad boys. You’ve broken hearts. You’ve experimented. And yet, there’s this wonderful man whose eyes look at you like you’ve fallen from the sky. Like Britney Spears in Oops I Did It Again, you feel like you must have tricked him into loving you; accidentally making this lovely guy fall for a version of you that isn’t quite the whole picture. Someone ready to dive into the ocean for the blue heart-shaped diamond. Yet here he is, loving you still after you’ve told him some of the darkest things about you.
There is endless confusion about why he is still with you. He remains in bed, laughing at you, as you show him how your bedroom is such a size that you could easily practice the bleep test. He’s a gentle soul oozing with sexiness; sexiness he doesn’t even know about; and he is with you?! He’s chosen you out of all those good girls?! Surely that can’t be right!
So you let it go on. Thoughts that one day he’ll realise how good he is in comparison to you – making him leave for some much hotter and much nicer lady – are utterly fine by you. You’ll enjoy it whilst it lasts, knowing that your love and appreciation for him are more than capable of letting him move on to someone potentially better than you. As long as it makes him happy, then you are okay with it. He’s worth any pain.