Beware Mr Nice Guy

You have to be very careful what you wish for. I’ve been ranting to pretty much anyone who will listen that I need a man. Any healthy specimen will do. Just some casual, no strings, unsentimental fun. You’d be surprised at how much of a challenge this search can be. It has taken me a year of singledom to realise that I attract two types of men: those who are in love with me and those who don’t give a shit. The in-between ‘I think you’re a cool person, let’s hang out for a bit and part fondly’ is nowhere to be found.

This, my last w end in London, before a Trans-Atlantic move saw my housemate make an attempt at a declaration of affection after a year of co-habitation. Sadly, the Nice Guy, is much harder to deal with than the Asshole. It’s very hard to know what to do with the Nice Guy. In this particular case I had to untwirl myself from his outstretched arm, take a massive step back and respond to his ‘have I got this wrong?’ with a big fat ‘yes’ and carry on doing the dishes. Awkward.

The start of the week saw the appearance of Nice Guy II. Smarter this time. Sneaky even. Didn’t see him coming. He’s a colleague so the invite to some ridiculously posh ball at the Institute of Directors almost came in the guise of a networking thing. I responded to the offer in the same way that any self-respecting woman would do on a Monday – by saying I’d have to check my schedule and revert.  All of five minutes had passed when I got an e-mail announcing that it was the last day for ticket sales so he’d taken the liberty of securing me one but was sure I would be able to suffer the champagne and four-course meal. Oh and PS. It’s a black tie event. Bloody cheek! I mean seriously, who has that kind of dress just hanging in their closet? I had a horrible feeling my favourite skintight very-above-the-knee 100% black leather dress wouldn’t be appropriate.

Naturally I sought a range of trusted female council on how to approach my To-go or Not- to-go dilemma.  The resounding conclusion was logical: tricked into it or not, I must go where the champagne will flow freely. So I’ve managed to dig out a very long, very not skintight black dress and will be generously be providing this chancer with the pleasure of my company. I can only pray for the absence of an awkward moment on the night and that this will be the last of any big gestures from the Nice Guys for some time to come.