Ghost of Earth ©

May 3, 2005 Uncategorized

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This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who


<>are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more,

who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities


and their actions because it must be they that are doing something


wrong. This is for the girls who don’t give it up on the first


date, who don’t want to play mind games, who provide a


comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story


they’ve heard a thousand times. This is an homage to the


girls who laugh loud and often.This is for the girls who


have been there from the beginning and have heard the


trite words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the


sea,” to “time heals all wounds.”


This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know



 that it’s an experience that they don’t want to miss out


on. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends


sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a


case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting


guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk


phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn’t care


enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their


bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in


their away messages, who have tried to make someone


understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who


have time and time again dropped their male friend hint


after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first


blonde girl in a skirt.




This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and


whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys


who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate


them and don’t want them; who use them for sex and


think of little else than where their next conquest will be


made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are


 genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet


 and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women


want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames,


that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you:


were you to meet one of these genuinely interested,


thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and


sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her


your number and wait for her to call… and if you were to


receive a call from her the next day and she, in her


truthful, and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell


you that she finds you intriguing and attractive, and worth


 her time, would you or would you not immediately call


your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met


the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her


sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you


not, refuse to make plans with her, and once again return


to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for


this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because


therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere.


But you’re not looking for a nice girl.


<>So don’t say you’re looking for a relationship:

relationships take time and energy and intent, three

things we’re willing to extend – – but in return, we’re

looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things

you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish

last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after

the easy-targets… the nice girls are waiting at the finish

line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and

yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness

probably won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe

you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the

end of that silly race.




So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys


in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their


 way to the concession stand where we’re waiting;


however, until that happens, we still have each other, that


 silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat


(because what’s a concession stand at a race without


some chocolate?)

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