I’m a big fan of failure, especially the kind that teaches you something. Typically, failure means you’re putting yourself outside of your comfort zone and stretching your boundaries. It means you’re willing to go beyond what’s safe and explore areas of life that you are not currently prepared for.
But sometimes, failure just means you’re a dumbass.
As I wrote my previous article on “Marriage isn’t for you”, I had to confront some memories of the failures that I encountered during my disgustingly beta Nice Guy years. There were definitely more failures than successes and like most Nice Guys, I just couldn’t quite figure out why.
Of course, it’s all very clear to me now. Not only can I live with these failures, I can laugh at them. So, with that, I am presenting an offering of some of my favorite failures for your amusement and viewing pleasure.
I’m going to start with one of my worst examples. No need to build up the excitement, let’s just jump right into it.
I’m gonna say it was 8th or 9th grade. Her name was Jamie and she was pretty. A super sweet girl, just the type that would appreciate a nice guy like me. Never mind that I was little more than a 90lb weakling and Jamie had never expressed even a smidge of interest in me.
So what was my big plan to win her over? Write her a note of course. I told her how great I thought she was. I pointed out all the wonderful qualities that I admired about her. I told her how honored I would be if she would go out with me.
You think I’m making this up don’t you?
So I penned this page long note. I do want to point out that I had very pretty handwriting, because chicks dig guys with pretty handwriting.
I walked up to her in Social Studies class and handed her the note right in front of everybody.
No I didn’t. I stood beside her locker, trying to build my courage to slide it in the slot and wait for her to find it.
Common sense won out. Ultimately, I knew it wouldn’t work. I threw the note away and nearly cried in my frustration.
Then during my junior year, there was Ashley. She dated all the bad boys and was quite generous with the sex. Surprisingly, she took an interest in a guy named Ben. Ben was a year younger than us and about 5’6. He looked twelve but he was an overall good guy. It gave me a glimmer of hope that she might have interest in a Nice Guy after all. He was a bit ambivalent toward her and I practically begged him to let me have a shot before he said yes.
A group of us went to the movies. I talked the teacher into letting me drive her car, one of my few Big Dick victories back in the day. I had a chance to sit by her at the show. I never said a word. She dated Ben for about a year and a half.
My senior year, I’m out cruising town with my cousin, Robert, and my buddy Bobby. We actually pick up three chicks. They weren’t much, but neither were we. Somehow I get stuck with the fat one. We go walk through this old abandoned house that was spooky as shit. She holds my hand. I let her.
We end up back at one of the girls’ house. My cousin is alpha of the group that night. He talks his girl into letting him drive her car. He’s making out with her on the couch. On the first night they met. I’m sitting in the chair with the fat girl on my lap, trying not to move. My cousin keeps looking over and mouthing, “Kiss her” and I keep shaking my head. She can see him. I want to punch him right in his face.
Bobby is on the other side of the room trying hard with the other girl who is actually kinda cute. A petite red head. He’s trying too hard and she plays the “I’ve got a boyfriend” card. Finally, he looks at me and the fat girl and says, “Well if you don’t want her, I’ll take her.” She gets up in a huff and stomps off to the kitchen.
A little later, I’m actually making time with the red head. I’m pretty sure she’s using me to keep Bobby at a distance and he’s pissed ’cause the fat girl doesn’t want him either. I’m wearing a t-shirt with some silly Christian reference on it and she’s asking me about it. I was leaning up against the heat stove (don’t worry, it was summer, it wasn’t on) and she was standing in front of me asking me about church. She steps right up to me. Inches away……I tell her about church camp.
Okay, that’s enough pain for one night. Not for me, I’m past it, but I’m sure you found it painful to read. If I go any further, I’m just being cruel.
I am looking across at my beautiful, hot wife finishing up her arm exercises on the bowflex and I wonder how I got from there to here. Those failures taught me nothing at the time, except to demonstrate that I was a failure with girls. My lessons learned come twenty years later when they serve to demonstrate how completely wrong my Nice Guy attitude was and they provide the motivation to never go back.
Perhaps another time, when I think you can stomach it, I’ll give a more in depth breakdown of exactly what was so wrong about these three incidents.
On a side note, this is the 50th post of the Big Dick Chronicles. I really expected to have lost interest in it by now, but like most other things in my life this one is getting better with age. I want to give a special shout out to the Asian Pacific crowd who show up here daily searching for things like, “Big dick for my wife” and “Thank you very much long dick guy”.
You’re very welcome.