Open Letter to a Nice Guy

I know—years of celibacy are enough to make your penis fall right off. I should know. I’ve suffered the horrific torment of five years without even a manly hug. Mike the Hottie chose Lynn instead of me, and I was way nicer than she was. Gary chose his 15-year marriage when I was clearly the rational choice. Sean had the nerve to choose a woman who was closer to his tastes than I was. Bastard!

After years of singlehood, I came to realise that men aren’t interested in nice girls. When your crap romantic choice ends in man tears, Mike, don’t come running to me.

Sorry. I’ll put my sarcasm away now.

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Look, being single for that long is enough to make a girl wonder if she’ll ever get laid again, but in the scheme of things, my celibate streak was one of the least traumatic experiences of my life. I didn’t insult all of mankind for daring not to fuck nice girls like me because gender had nothing to do with it, and nor did niceness. Periods of celibacy, Mr Nice Guy, are a universal problem, suffered by people with vaginas and penises alike. In fact, there are almost two single women to every man so stop treating your celibacy as a tragedy unique to you. The only difference between you and other singles is that you’re butthurt about it.

While you’re fixing your broken attitude, will you do something about your resentment at women for locking you in the friend zone? Sex isn’t a gift handed out by magnanimous female gatekeepers, and nor is celibacy. Romance is more of a joint effort, like chess. If you set out your chessboard and nobody wants to join you in a game, I hope you don’t wail and stomp your feet about how chess players only want assholes as opponents. Nobody owes you a damn chess game anyway, and you’re no more entitled to a shag.

It takes time and effort to land a mutual crush who checks all my boxes. I like kinky, bookish types with crow’s feet and abnormal levels of authenticity. Is your list of preferences any shorter than mine? If not, then we’re facing the same odds of finding romance, aren’t we? So, Mr Nice Guy, is it possible that your crappy luck at finding partners has nothing to do with luck at all? Could it be that long phases of celibacy are just a part of the human experience?

Or is it possible that women aren’t choosing you because your sense of entitlement smells of organic fertiliser on a hot and humid day?

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