Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Why I like Nice Guys....and the Reason Ain't So Nice.

To quote myself:

"Nice guys finish last because they're too focused on giving everyone around them a head start..."

Not sure what this has to do with this post, but I think that's a brilliant goddam quote. *pat on the back*

So, I'm over here thinking about all of the times I've heard from "nice guys" that they have a problem staying out of the friend zone and getting the woman that they might want.

Well, what I have learned is thaaaat nice guys are attracted to some fucked up women. Just like how nice girls are attracted to some serious assholes. Perhaps their is a certain level of fear-otica involved? Perhaps the danger aspect of having your emotions tossed into a centrifuge and leaving you leveled, in debt and possibly with a new baby has something to do with it.

Who knows?

All I KNOW is that nice guys either don't like me or I turn them into assholes.

Assholes can't get enough of me. I tame them and make them beg...never giving them anything because I don't like them. But I do adore the challenge of bringing the asshole out of a nice guy. New hobby...

Who is this callous bitch that I have become? I'm not the kind of bitch that usually comes with the title of "wife". No, I'm so fucking cold hearted that I don't even recognize myself anymore. Dear God, I have been through the fucking wringer with these fucking men. Good thing that I am a fan of karma, because I could really see myself becoming some kind of serial killer of men.

So, instead of picking up an axe or a revolver, I write:

They way they glare at me...hungry. The remarks they make about my cleavage and my mouth. Fuck Puppet extreme..seriously it fucking hurts when I want to believe that I am so much more. Well, I used to be more. Now, I'm not sure. Maybe they can sense that I've surrendered and no longer seek relationships and love. Maybe they can smell me when I am just exceptionally horny. Walking in a skirt, satin panties, feeling the lips of my kitty rub against the other...subtle oozing of sex. My wetness. Walking into the convenience store to buy a scratch off game and my smokes. They all turn their heads, nostrils flaring, pupils rapidly dilating....sniffing harder. Approaching me with their off-color advances. Some stumbling into the coffee pots and creamers. Other's looking fearful. Some bold enough to ask for my number.

They are all denied...and I walk away, leaving a trail of sex behind me. Their eyes follow me out of the door.

But it isn't love. It's a carnal desire for sex and conquest. When they look at me, they never see love. They see a whore, a mistress, a woman that might do things that other women won't.

As the voice of the ghost of what I once was trails faintly from millions of miles above me, "I just want somebody to love me..."...repeated... as I recklessly descend into the deep pitch black....until I hear nothing but the steady hum of my own self-loathing, malice and discontent. The familiar, bitter taste of reproach soothes the palette.

Oh, sweet surrender into lustful oblivion. A different kind of numbing.

Fuck me until I hurt. Fuck me until you split me in two. Make me forget about love. About these so called "nice guys". Turn off the lights. Get rid of this hope.

Maybe one day I will meet a nice guy at that convenience store...and he'll sniff me out. He'll be shy about approaching me. Maybe I'll walk up to him, put his hand up my skirt and take him to the men's room. Maybe ...I'll let this nice guy fuck me.  And if he does, he won't be a nice guy anymore.

I want to make him thrust harder and harder as we experience violent fucking into le petit muer. The  further stabbing of my own dead, hopeless heart. The asphyxiation of his decency. The nice guy drowned to death in a pool of his own semen.

Maybe letting him fuck me is murder in an abstract sense. Slaying his stoic sensibilities and aptitude for Godly justice in a way. Making him see the truth. He's just an animal. Just like me.

Death by sex, the numbers increase. The nice guys have gone missing. Keep your doting husbands, super boyfriends and wonderful sons locked indoors. Call out an APB. There might be a serial killer on the loose after all.

Nice guys like to complain about getting the short end of the stick, but I am convinced that deep within the heart of every "nice guy" lays an asshole just screaming to get out. They're just too afraid of letting go...that's when they look at me.

The way they smell me, I can sniff them out, too.

Am I even the prey anymore? Not even a little bit.

What have I become....

Well, maybe everyone, when stripped to the core is pretty much an asshole given enough beat downs by life to make them hate the light of day or cringe at the sound of laughter or break into hives at displays of love.

Or maybe not. Maybe I'm the only cold-hearted, asshole bitch with nothing to lose and a lot of darkness within me clawing its way out every day. I can feel my skin burn underneath from that devil woman's nails scratching to get out of my body.

I fear for the world. The scariest thing a man can ever confront is a woman that no longer gives a fuck.

*fun times*


  1. I'm a bit of both. I love the women I'm with and can be a great guy. Sometimes I can be an asshole. I am the dichotomy of man. My ying is strong and my yang is just as strong. I can be incredibly sweet or alarmingly callous. I am a roulette wheel in human form, without the personality disirders attached. And I will fuck you til you cry and still wake up next to you in the morning if it takes us there.

  2. wow Jesus ~ not the kind of response I was wanting to read from a guy. You aren't callous, you're a dick. Go away. There's no such thing as a "ying". ok? It's yin....yin/yang. If you're gonna act like you're some poetic shit machine, at least use the correct words.

    What? Guys can be callous assholes, but chicks can't?

  3. Wow, Jesus is real. He commented on my blog. I'm blessed.