Nice Guy FAIL. Este artículo no está disponible.Nice Guy FAIL

“Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.” – Mark Twain
I’m at a New Year’s party with a bunch of friends, most married. Midnight is approaching, and I’m holding the tallest Bombay Sapphire and tonic I can find, because I haven’t found Miss Next. A married friend remarks.
“Dude, who are you going to kiss at midnight?”
“No idea.”
“Why don’t you mingle and find someone?”
“Maybe I don’t see anyone I’d like to kiss.”
“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Neither can married men.”
“But...”
“Careful, lad. You don’t want to confess infidelity to a writer.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying, if I wanted to kiss another woman, I could.”
“Right, and you might be caught and forced to pay the consequences, which would be more significant than mine.”
“So, you like being alone because it’s safer.”“Single. I like being single, because it offers nearly limitless opportunities.”
“What about the sex?”
“Really? You want to go there? How long have you been married?”
“Never mind. Enjoy your drink, nice guy.”
I am nice—to a fault. Then, after being poked enough times, I stray into naughty land. Although I know it’s what many women prefer, I can’t seem to transform myself into a bad boy.
I witness bad boys treating women badly. Often, these women complain to me about it. Then, I watch them walk away from me, and swoon back into the beast’s arms.
Insanity, if you ask me.
This is what makes me fall from niceness. Women constantly saying they want one thing, while selecting the other. Women don’t want to fuck nice guys. Women want bad boys to fuck them.
There’s only one way to describe it:
Nice Guy FAIL.

Torcivia is a divorced man who transplanted himself from Pennsylvania into the treacherous dating pool in Southern California. His feline companions, Syd and Symon, share his home in San Diego and an occasional dish of leftover tuna. Torcivia loves nothing better than bellying up to the bar with his favorite social lubrication (wine) and watching the bizarre mating rituals of the locals, which he translates into humorous essays. He has been single long enough to be involved in a few train wrecks of his own, admitting that he's "one relationship disaster away from a third cat."