There comes a time in your life when you regret what you are. That keeps happening to me. I end up in situations where I want one thing but the fiber of my being does not let me have it. Does that make sense? Of course not, I’m being really confusing. Sorry, but I’m not really in touch with my feelings, so when I try to explain them it turns out to be cryptic. Let just use the most recent example that is walking away from me as I speak. She is a friend. One of those friends that everyone always asks if we are dating but never are. Well, anyway, when we first met, we became quick friends and got pretty close. Close enough, from my point of view. I am a seasoned veteran in getting my feelings hurt. I am really good at it. People find it really easy to treat me like s***, like I have no feelings. Used and abused with a dagger in my heart, jealous yet? So I do not let people get to know me. The real me, I keep my thoughts to myself and my level of sharing them at a minimum. Fool me once, and that’s on me. Put up walls just to get fooled again and I’m off the deep end. If you survive, you come back as a paranoid individual that trusts no one and lets no one in. I’m not getting fooled again.

With everything in life, there is an inherent risk. If you let no one in then there is no risk. Think about it in terms of money: if you have a lot of money and you invest it then you could lose your investment. Yet, on the other hand, if you hoard your money and bury it in the backyard then you don’t lose your money. That is what I decided to do with my feelings. Then every once in a while an investment comes along that I cannot pass up. So I decide to dip into the ditch money, then lose it all. That’s what you get for having dreams. Dreams are the worst thing for humanity. If we did not have dreams then no one would be disappointed. But unfortunately, dreams kept happening. But I’m a hypocrite because I have some dreams of my own. Those dreams are how I ended up here today. Stupid dreams are walking off, this time for good. Have you ever had your heart promised the world? Only to get it ripped out and tossed into a meat grinder?

I do not particularly recommend it. But I can promise you that it gets better. I was devastated the first time it happened, now sure it hurts but I’ll be fine. Let me explain something to the functional people. I am a nice guy. In fact, I am the poster child for “nice guys.” It’s a good group. We just got a margarita machine in the break room. What do I mean? Let me explain: I am overly polite, always asking for permission, respectful, constantly nervous of making a mistake, and terrified of people having negative opinions of me. So my behavior is heavily influenced by what others think of me. I do not want to be the subject of gossip. Therefore I do not do anything that is gossip-worthy. I always ask permission, that way people do not think I am presumptuous. I am overly polite because I do not want people to think I do not care about them. I want people to like me. I try my hardest not to make enemies in this world. So I bend and conform to others’ wishes. A classic “yes man” type of situation. I just do not want people to think that I am an a**hole. It is like attempting to tread water. If you just be yourself and have opinions you drown. Yes, risking people not liking me is like drowning. So I jump through hoop after hoop just to stay afloat. I want to be perfect. How can someone complain about someone that is perfect? So I think my decisions to death wondering, would an a**hole say this? Can this be taken the wrong way? Always playing the safe card and never taking a risk.

Now the epitome of my life; Rebecca. The fiber of my person is to be a nice guy. Over the time I spent on this earth I have accumulated a good deal of friends. But being a guy it is a little weird that my closest friends are women. Yet, like I said, I am a nice guy. They are not threatened by me. So I am the gay best friend. The guy that they go to, to talk about their feelings and he will not take advantage of them. The only problem with me being the gay best friend is that I'm not gay. Not to say that being gay is bad or wrong, it is just not me. Let me explain with hair color. If you have a friend that dyes their hair, you may not remember their natural color. Like, “You are not a natural blonde?” reaction to when you tell people you dye your hair. Maybe they were a redhead and wanted to change it blonde. Not to say that redheads are bad. But I do act a bit feminine and people think that perhaps I am not straight. It is a crime for guys to have feelings. I mean, I can talk about that stuff and still be straight, but no. Once you have a sensitive side as a man, suddenly you are gay. Isn’t that terrible? I am sure that there are plenty of people who are not gay but are in touch with their feelings. In the same way, just because you are gay, it does not make you inherently in touch with your feelings. Can we just let people be people without labels? So some people look at me like, “You are not gay?”

So Rebecca was a close friend. Coming from a guy with a lot of female friends, there are tiers. This is going to sound horrible but bear with me. One tier is we are just friends, that’s is it. The second tier is we are friends and I could see something happening but not likely. The third tier is I would like something to happen but she is not having it; so we are just friends. Fourth, we are very close friends and no amount of alcohol can change that. The fifth tier is when you guys are more of a brother-sister type of relationship, and the thought of a romantic aspect makes you gag a bit. Then there is the "no way in hell would they be caught dead with a guy like me" tier. So the girl is just unattainable. Well, Rebecca fell in the fifth tier of never-going-to-happen-so-stop-wishing-boy.

The she broke up with her dream guy. It was for a bunch of petty reasons that just built up over time and they ended things. Then she started to take an interest in me, which was great for me. But all good things come to an end. I quickly realized that I was just the rebound guy. That is my role in life, to get nothing and somehow find a way to be happy about it, then when something good happens it is not for long and out of pity. It is great to be me. We were at dinner today when all she could talk about was her ex, Rex. Then you know Rex happens to walk into the restaurant we were eating at and so I made my choice. I looked at her and saw someone who settled. So this is what I said, “Go to him.” She insisted that we were together now. Yeah right, we are not “official” and you will not take a photo with me because of the “paper trail.” I figured it out when she a Rex broke up I was the closest guy there. Kind of like being the starting quarter of the Los Angeles Rams. You do not have to be a great player, you just have to be the best player present at training camp. Under normal circumstances, no one would ever hire you, or give you a starting job. Kind of like that old joke of the two lawyers in the woods a bear shows up. So the one lawyer starts to put on running shoes. The other one says, “Surely you do not believe that you can outrun a bear?” His friend replies, “I don’t have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you.”

So to Rebecca, I was that slightly faster lawyer. I weighed my options. I could be selfish and accept her “pity-love” and be perfectly happy while she slowly died inside. But the nice guy in me said this, “Go to him. Listen, it was fun while it lasted but I figured it out a while ago. I know and understand what this was and I’ll make my peace with it. But look at him, he is miserable. You know you love him.” (Okay, they dated for four years. She clearly loved him because she told me several times when they dated. Everyone thought that they were going to get married and they should. Even before they dated she had the biggest crush on him. Rex is Rebecca’s superman). So I said, “Look at him, he is your top choice. He is Harvard and I’m community college. No one would throw away their shot at going to Harvard for community college.” I am the community college, the safety school. The school that is always there and in the back of your mind. The “if all else fails school.” That’s the only reason people keep me around. Rebecca got up and went to Rex. I walked away with my heart hacked out of my chest and thrown into a paper shredder, again. Maybe she could go back to get her degree but she never will. I’m a nice guy that let a nice girl go have her happiness. Am I happy? Well, it’s an old saying but it is true. “Nice guys finish last.”