Ghost of Earth ©

May 3, 2005 Uncategorized


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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