Online Hating: The Nice Guy

Now this is just a gross mis-use of a smiley face emoticon

Messages from Furrytummy064 landed in my inbox with the rapidity of machine gun fire. Rat-a-tat-tat. 

“We’re a perfect match!”

“You sound amazing!”

“Want to go to dinner?”

Despite the sexy and mysterious username:  Furrytummy -- I hesitated, browsing the menagerie of photos he’d selected to show the various sides of his witty, playful, yet earnest personality. There was one of him locked in an old-fashioned-looking set of wooden stocks; another where he stood on a boat wearing a yellow baseball hat, tipping the bill down with his forefinger; and a third where he stood in front of a motorcycle wearing a leather jacket.  Despite the clownish photos and the flattery-heavy e-mails, I sensed something sinister about Furrytummy – a red flag I could hear waving in the distance, but not see.   

Then I remembered I joined an online dating site as an experiment, “just for fun.” So, I said yes.  

But as the evening of our rendezvous drew near, FT’s e-mails became more aggressive. He wanted to know why I rarely e-mail. He wanted to know why he couldn’t have my phone number. He wanted to know where I’d been and what I’d been doing.

It occurred to me that a date with FT would not be an experiment. I cancelled, telling him he seemed like a  guy who needed a woman who could spare a lot of time and attention. I, unfortunately, cannot. 

His reply landed in my inbox with a thud.

“Screw  you! You should do every nice guy in the world a big favor and get off this site.”

I sat staring at the words “nice guy” for a long time.

It reminded me of a friend’s recent 3 a.m. outburst as I was trying to wrestle her into a New York City taxi. “I’m not drunk! I am not drunk!” She screamed over and over.

It’s my personal belief that if you ever catch yourself screaming “I’m not drunk,” you are actually quite drunk. I think it’s the same for this “nice guy.” How nice could he be if he sends a “screw you” e-mail to a woman he’s never met?  

But I’m a truth-seeker and a self-doubter, so I began my research like the good academic that I am.  

“A nice guy never has to say he’s a nice guy,” said my friend Brandon. “That’s like the Waldorf Astoria hanging a Triple-A-rated sign in its window. Being a nice guy is understood. This guy was stepping all over your space and hounding you and making you feel uncomfortable, and then when you called him on it, he said ‘Screw you,’ that’s not a nice guy.”

I then e-mailed my friend Jack. Jack has not always been a nice guy – but he’s been married for 20 years and because he’s never trying to get in my pants, I can usually rely on him to translate boy language for me.   

I wrote, “I’m interested in how men think they can totally suffocate you – strangle you – and then say ‘Well, I’m a nice guy because I give you all this attention and you suck because you don’t appreciate it. What do you think? Am I real bitch?”

Jack responded, “The nice guy you are talking about seems passive/aggressive and controlling. ‘You owe me because I was nice, bought you a drink, etc.’ --which could be effective since women seem to want to feel guilty about everything."

Then I spoke to my roommate, a woman who has spent the past 40 years in various stages of dating, marrying or divorcing men.  

“He probably just thinks he’s a nice guy because he doesn’t get to sleep with many women,” she said. 

I decided to delete the e-mail – to let it go – like a big, bloated balloon full of venom.

And the following week I agreed to go out with a man who did not complain about my sporadic e-mails. He did not demand to know my phone number or my whereabouts. He would arrive early to get us a good table, insist on paying the check, and text me to make sure I made it home safely.

And he would never once point out he's a nice guy.