(just reposting so that i have a copy for myself)Nice Guy looked in the mirror one last time, making sure his fedora was crooked at just the right angle.
Fingerless gloves? Check.
Converse high tops? Check.
He was ready to go.
Nice Guy shoved his Guy Fawkes mask into his death note messenger bag (just in case anyone thought to question how totally against the status quo he was), and straightened his meme shirt.
With his wallet safely secured to his cargo pants by a snazzy chain, he left his apartment.
“Bye mom! I’m off to let women know how nice I am, and how much better suited to them I am than any other person they may or may not have met!”
The bar was crowded. Another man bumped against him, and Nice Guy looked scandalized. “NO HOMO!” he shouted, although the offending man just looked at him, and walked away.
“Disgusting,” muttered the Nice Guy to himself. “But he probably gets all the bitches because women only date assholes! Ugh!”
He reached the bar, and ordered himself a beer, scanning his surroundings for any acceptable women. ‘Not that one,’ he thought to himself. ‘Too fat. Don’t women know they’ll never get dates looking like that?’ He looked around more. ‘Oh, what a slut! God, don’t women have any self respect?’
Once more around the bar.
‘Oh she’s perfect! I love a woman with some self confidence!’ he thought to himself, moving toward her.
“Hey, you’re gorgeous.”
For some strange reason, the woman looked rather uncomfortable, so he figured he’d keep talking to her.
“I said you’re gorgeous.”
she looked even more uncomfortable. The Nice Guy ordered her a drink, so that she’d be obliged to talk to him longer. He just needed to push hard enough, she’d see that he was right for her!
“I heard, thanks. No, I don’t really want that drink—”
“No, it’s fine, I’m a gentleman! It’s on me!” he said enthusiastically. “You’re like a caramel goddess! Not too dark, mind you, but you’re beautiful! Kind of like Beyonce.”
“That’s actually really offensive.”
“What? I paid you a compliment!” the Nice Guy argued, beginning to become frustrated. Perhaps he needed to rethink talking to this girl. “Besides, you’ve got such a nice body,” he said, winking. She looked utterly disgusted, which made him confused.
“Well, my friends are here, so, I’m going to go,” she said, leaving the drink that he’d so graciously paid for on the table, untouched. He was fuming.
“I’VE HAD IT WITH WOMEN!” he shouted. “YOU’RE ALL FRIGID BITCHES, AND YOU’RE CONSTANTLY FRIENDZONING PEOPLE WHO DON’T DESERVE IT!” he began to cry, and the bar patrons began silently paying for their drinks, and leaving.
“Sir?” he looked around wildly, and a man was standing behind him. “You seem to have dropped your fedora,” he said, handing him his fallen accessory. The Nice Guy snatched it from his hands, and fled from the establishment.
There was always tomorrow.