Last weekend I was at a dinner, drinks and club thing, mainly with a bunch of people I’ve never met before. One of the people there was as direct as I am, and asked me why it didn’t work out with me and me exhusband, going; ‘Was he …?’ with a look, obviously hinting at if he had been a bastard to me. And the thing is, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that. People assume there was some major blowout for me to leave him, so young.
And so I answered; ‘Fuck, no! No … He was actually just too … nice’.
‘Too -nice-?’ Another guy asked, then mumbling ‘then you’re not nice enough, then you’re too nice…’
I tried to explain myself – with a shot or two in my bloodstream – that it is most -surely- possible to be too nice. It has nothing to do with women wanting male chauvanists or hardcore criminals. But there’s a -major- difference between;
‘Is there anything I can get you?’
‘Is there anything I can get you? No? Are you sure? Coffee? A sweater for your shoulders? … No? But … Something to drink? No? … Alright.’
There is -nothing- worse in this world than a man lapdogging on you. And the latter is absolutely lapdogging, much too nice, and makes my respect for the man drop to below zero.
And the funny thing is, the more my oh-so-wonderful exhusband steps back in a discussion or situation, the more I step forward. He still flicks my bitch switch so hard, and brings out the worst in me. We were at a thing recently due to the kids, and … I just … almost didn’t recognize myself. I get vicious on him, because his almost groveling just -pisses- me off. I slick over with shortfused bitch-mode, and I really don’t like that side of myself – in that situation, at least.
The counterpart to too nice is not being an asshole. It’s being calm, at ease, confident. Daring to be soft to your woman, but still, always, being in charge.