I don't like 'nice guys', they're too unpredictable. You never know when their reabsorbed-sperm filled bodies are going to explode, jerking out the pent up testosterone over the surrounding crowd like a swingers concert. It ultimately ends with the 'nice guy' doing something stupid and everyone else feeling like they've just been used like a teenage boys box of Kleenex.
However it seems that me and my friends have been fooled by the 'nice guy' act too. Having not seen a male friend for over 2 years I thought reconnecting with this 'nice guy' would hold no harm. It would also allow at least one of my weekends to be filled with something other than expanding my waist line with chocolate, and calculating the variables that could be used to determine how sad ones life is. Now I would like to make it clear that I have never and will never have any emotional or sexual attraction to this male. Having had a lot of guy friends throughout my life, I did not think it would mean anything different in my later years. I was wrong.
When 'nice guy' arrived I figured it would be just like when I caught up with my friend, Michelle. After almost 13 years apart it was easy talk, a great laugh and a friendship I am glad to have back. 'Nice guy' did not repeat this experience.
As it was late I thought pizza, a movie and a catch up was in order. There was talk. Then it happened. There's looking at someone when you're talking to them, and then there's staring. 'Nice guy' was attempting to hold eye contact after the sentence was finished for slightly too long. Throughout the evening it pissed on the line of 'I have an absolute interest in what you're saying' and proceeded to journey into the area of 'I'm staring whilst lost in my thoughts of how to contact Fritzl's contractor'. I desperately text Michelle to make sure that someone knew where I was and who may ultimately be the last person to see me alive. I decided it was best to shake this off and continue with the evening, as he was staying for the weekend and I would have to deal with this particular (and disturbing) character flaw. I made sure he understood we would be sleeping in separate rooms and moved on. Unfortunately my sofa is only a 2 person and with his bulk I felt uncomfortably close for the night. However I could put this down to my own character flaw of reserving close proximity to family.
Out the next day things were improved as I placed the pub table between us and pulled on my sunglasses to avoid eye contact. Then it happened. As I got into the taxi he sat right next to me, in the middle seat that's usually reserved for small children, who does that? SPACE INVADER. I immediately looked around for a small white laser that might save my personal space and allow me to no longer feel like I had a large Siamese twin attached to me, that spent its time staring at me, waiting for its testosterone jerk-off event. The close proximity was making the staring so much worse. However I was sat on the wrong side of the car to be able to safely leap from it. Maybe if I tucked and rolled. Which is better death by car or life imprisonments? Hmm.... if he still fed me cheesecake it wouldn't be that different to my single person seclusion. After these thoughts my over active imagination jumped through my DVD collection; Silence of the lambs, The bone collector, Kiss the girls..... I really need some new DVD's.
Upon arriving home to watch another film I formed a plan. I would sit on my bean bag. No small sofa for me. Then it happened. He sat on the floor. I decided that I was obviously going to be turned into a skin suit, whilst my bones were used for a ritual sacrifice and my poor outdated DVD collection would burn in the resulting blaze. I moved slightly across. Then it happened. He moved over using my bean bag as an arm cushion. SPACE INVADER. I text Steph to be sure that someone will be able to identify my mangled body, as it lay next to a plate showing the remains of my brain and a portion of refried beans.
After covering the whole of my living room floor like a cat and mouse game I concluded that he had to go. Then it happened. He would not leave. Despite several hints that must have been clear, knowing that subtlety is not my strong suit, he still wouldn't leave. I was forced to take drastic action. I pretended to go to work. I made the excuse and actually changed into my work clothes before he got the hint to phone the taxi number I thrust into his hand. I ensured that he was locked in the taxi before returning home, showering, washing all my sheets and making a solemn promise. I will never invite a 'nice guy' to my house again.
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