“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember. you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we’re apart.. i’ll always be with you.”—Winnie the Pooh
This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.
This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.
This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.
The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.
So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.
our sinful gabe. who arth in NYC. hallowed by thy chain. thy starship, thy will be done at home as it is at show. give us this day, our daily cobra and give us our daily beats, as we give beats to those who are in need. and lead us not, into bad clubs and deliver us fresh mixes. fangs up.
glory be to the nasty nate to the suave suarez. and to the pleasure ryland. as it was in the first show. is now and ever shall be. fangs up.
hail vicky-t full of myspace. the cobra is with thee. blessed thou amongst fan girls and blessed is thy fan, clandan. holy vicky-t, mother of cobra starship pray for us cobra fans now at the hour of the show. fangs up.
(all names, except for my sister’s, have been changed for my sanity and theirs as well)
I was on the same street that I grew up on, but it wasn’t my house I was at, it was Joey and Sophie’s old house. The house that I remember so vividly, playing with Danielle and John when I was younger. It wasn’t fall, like I wanted it to be. It was January or maybe, February. I wanted it so badly to be fall. I wanted orange, yellow, and red leaves falling from the trees around my block, the wind blowing them towards the east. But it was cold and everything was dead and bare.
I was dressed in white lace; my dress looked much like my mother’s wedding dress. The veil felt heavy on my head, full of blonde curls. I saw everyone walking inside the house. Everyone happy, smiling, laughing, talking about what was about to happen. I remember feeling like I’ve wanted this my entire life, but nothing was right. The house was set up different. Not as comforting as I remember it. I walked into what used to be Danielle’s room. My mom was there, friends of friends were there, Danielle passed by. It wasn’t what I wanted. Everything was off, nothing was as it should be on this day. I wanted to go see John; he was just in the next room. But my instincts were holding me back. NO! I need to see him; I needed to tell him how I really felt about all this.
I walked from Danielle’s room to John’s; it felt like a rope was pulling me back towards the room I came from. I pushed open the door. His room was the same, colored in blue. He looked shocked that I came, my mom close behind me. Sophie was on her cell phone, texting, leaning against the old red couch. I asked everyone to leave. Sophie just stood there. I asked again, she reluctantly got up, laughing as she pushed the buttons on her phone. I sat down on the bed, my dress felt tighter than it had before, the buttons and threads holding the dress together began to rip and pop off. The veil became too unbearable to keep on anymore. I pulled it off, curls getting messed up in the process. I laid the veil on the bed, keeping my hand down in order to hold myself up. I shook my head, knowing what words were going to come out of my mouth, and how I didn’t want to say it, but I had to. “What’s wrong?” John asked. “You know that I’ve loved you since I was 6 years old, and I’ve wanted this my entire life.” I said, tears beginning to form at the corner of my eyes. “Yes, I know. Me too.” He said so confused. “I just can’t do this, it isn’t right. It isn’t fall.”
He sat there, on the bed in his tuxedo; the John I remember fondly was forming in front of me. His glasses, his smile. I was trying to remember his laugh, which was my favorite thing about him. But it all got clouded… I had wanted this for so long, why was I saying these words? He didn’t understand, but didn’t say anything back. I left the room, sad, but not sad enough. All I ever wanted was now lost.
People began to leave, disappointed in me, but it seemed like they knew something like this was going to happen. I hid from everyone. My face in my hands almost regretting what I had done. The weight off my shoulders had been lifted, ever so slightly, but right after; a new weight was put on. The weight of never knowing what would’ve happened if I had gone through with the wedding on that cold, barren, winter day.
Japan, I don’t know how long after…
I am in a market place, surrounded by vendors with more Japanese candy than I could’ve imagined. My parents, mom on foot, father in a black motorized scooter, along with this tiny little girl, who couldn’t be older than 4, are running around somewhere. I grab a bag full of this wafer candy, a man come up behind me and puts his arms around my waist, in my mind, it was unfamiliar, but my body embraced it, as if I knew this man. I turned around and a man, more like a boy, (i describe what he looks like here, but if i were to still describe him, you would know who he really is.)stands there. I know him, it’s Vince. He is smiling at me, eyes wide and happy. The overwhelming feeling of comfort comes over me, as if I just sat down in front of a fire place, and I turn to hug him face on.
We walk around, looking at the gadgets in the market place. Over sized flowers and glowing lights. I take this little girl by the hand, who reminds me of my younger sister, Nikki, and we walk opposite of where Vince is going. I want to go with him, be by his side at all times, but he tells me not to and to walk around. So the little girl and I walk around, looking at strange toys. Little dolls with big eyes and small bodies, funny characters in the forms of rabbits, frogs, bears, and lions, glowing lights on things that twirl around and mesmerize you. She is a sweet child, polite, charming, and more beautiful than any other child I’ve seen. Her eyes are blue, her hair is dark, she is slender and has light skin. Who’s could she be, I wonder.
Being away from Vince makes me hurt and curious, so I leave the little girl with a friend who is with us. A man, I think his name is Jason. I go off to find Vince. He isn’t too far away, in a shop with glass casing displays. But, instead of what I thought would be jewelry, it’s colorful things that take no real shape. He see’s me. “Go away, I’ll be right back” Vince says, as he makes a shooing motion for me to leave. I blush and do as he says. What is he doing? What is he buying for me? I keep wondering a million thoughts as I spy. Being away from the little girl with big eyes and dark hair is hurting as much as it hurt being away from Vince. I am stuck in the middle of the market place, deciding which way I should go. I go back to Vince, who has a small box in his hand.
“It’s a ring”, he says. My heart begins to pound.
We walk hand in hand, ring on my finger, back to the little girl. She runs up to Vince, yells “Daddy!” as Vince holds out his arms to pick her up. All of a sudden, everything comes rushing back. “This is my family…” I say out loud. “Of course it is, who did you think we were?” Vince says back to me. “For a minute there, I forgot.” I say, with a half smile. “You didn’t forget me, did you mommy?” said the little girl. “Of course not Laurel, of course not.” I say as I go to hug, Vince and Laurel, my family.
My life went from something I wanted so bad, for so long to something I didn’t even know I wanted until I had it, and now, I wouldn’t want to loose it for the world.
i am writing a paper on a personal experience with a mental illness. and who better to write it on than myself, right?
as i began writing this paper… i came to the realization that if i didn’t have my friends in my life, i would probably be dead.
with my breakdowns, freak outs, random acts of selfishness, and being moody for no real reason, i am pleasantly surprised and unbelievably happy that you all stuck around. even though i have given you plenty of reasons not to.
i know everyone says they have amazing friends. but in my case it is very true. they all have wonderful individually unique qualities. i don’t think anyone could even come close in comparison to any my friends.
you guys are pretty much the main reason i am still around if you all hadn’t taken the time to get to know me and i get to know you, i’d be a lesser person. you are all amazing in your own way. you are all so supportive and incredibly strong. you are always there for me. whether i need to talk, laugh, get advice, a shoulder to cry on, a ride home, or to just get away and escape reality for a while.
i value our friendship so much. you all play a vital role in my life. i just want to thank you and say i love you.
ps:to my newest closest friend, ashley, i love you too!
a song with the name “stephanie” in it or in the song title. the winner (of my favorite)will get, +100 cool points. and i will bake you my famous white chocolate raspberry cupcakes. but if you don’t like raspberry i will make you my white chocolate strawberry cupcakes. and if you don’t like white chocolate… i will make you my chocolate oreo cookie cupcakes.