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“I mean,” I reply, sitting forward, “what’s making you worry about your tough guy quotient?”
It could be any number of things because guys worry about their toughness for a lot of reasons—being challenged, feeling out of control, facing something difficult, or even as a way to prove themselves.
Lucas opens his mouth, then closes it, not ready to share his thoughts yet. Facing a problem head on is something Lucas has avoided at all costs in the past. When he was struggling in school, his first response was to hit the weights harder than the books, and though he increased his bench press PR by thirty pounds, he failed a class he needed for his major. When his family was hurting financially, he complained about how his scholarship funds weren’t enough to live on instead of getting a job to help support his younger siblings.
He always tends to run opposite of his problems when they arise.
But he’s been working on it... and finally, he sighs. “Nora.”
I lean back, taking the pressure off and giving him space now that he’s talking. “Nora. What happened with her?”
Nora is a girl he’s been interested in for a while, and we’ve talked about her a few times. But the way he says her name this time tells me that things are different now.
“Look, man, I tried to do what you said,” Lucas says, frustrated and obviously hurt. “I tried talking to her, being respectful. I even fucking listened as she droned on and on and on about Taylor Swift’s new album, like I give a shit. And then, when I asked her out, you know what she said?”
I already know what she said, given his outburst, so I stay silent and raise my brows, encouraging him to go on.
“Blake Christian,” Lucas spits. “She told me she’s dating the star defensive end for the football team. The dude who’s fucked his way through half the chicks on campus but keeps getting chances with the next one because they all think they’ll be the one to magically change him likepoof.” He snaps his fingers.
“Or they just like him?” I suggest, and Lucas’s eyes pop wide open in anger. But I keep going, pushing the idea to prove a point. “Or they want a fuckboy, or he’s actually a nice guy?”
Lucas scowls at me, snarling, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The point is, you don’t know why Nora wants to go out with Blake, but she must have her reasons. Reasons she doesn’t have to share with you or anyone else. However...” I hold my hands up, telling him to let me finish. “Did she lead you on? Or was there nothing between you two yet?”
I know the answer because he’s been talking about her for a while, but he hasn’t ‘sealed the deal’, as he called it last week.
“Well, I was texting her ‘good morning, beautiful’ and good night texts. Telling her how great she is, talking about all the boring stuff she’s into, and when she was studying, I took her pizza from her favorite place and sat with her for dinner, kinda like a date. And I saw her out with friends one night, so I bought them a round of drinks, which was expensive as fuck, and we danced.” He huffs, letting his head fall back on the couch to stare at the ceiling. “All the shit you told me to do.”
“Okay, and what was her response to all that? Did she text you back, talk with you, seem happy to see you?”
I’m tip-toeing a bit with Lucas because truthfully, he’s not a nice guy. He just thinks he is, and that’s what I’m working to help him realize. His attention is transactional in his head, even if he hasn’t identified that he connects actions with emotions that way yet.
On a deep level he’s not aware of, he thinks ‘I was nice’ and ‘I bought you drinks’ translates to ‘you’ll date me’ and ‘you’ll want to have sex with me’.
“I don’t know, man. She was fucking happy to let me buy her drinks, that’s for sure. I bet Blake’s not doing shit like that for her. But I’m sure she’s sucking his dick like a hungry whore.”
“Whoa, slow down!” I protest. “I know you’re upset, but—”
But Lucas is in full-on rant mode, his emotions and dark thoughts having festered inside his brain like a toxic pimple. And now he’s squeezing it out... all over the room. I guess it’s better than doing it someplace else, like in front of Nora. “That’s why this is all bullshit.” He gestures to the room at large, and at first, I’m not sure what he means. But he keeps spitting out ugliness. “Nice guys like me finish last. Bitches really just want the top percentage of guys who are hot, tall, and have big dicks. It doesn’t matter how they treat them. The shittier the better, and they swallow it down. That’s why all this simp stuff you’re preaching is a fucking scam.”
“Enough,” I say sternly, taking the gloves off to stop his downward spiral. Coldly, I give him the hard truth, still not entirely sure he’s ready for it but knowing he needs to hear it. “You went in expecting Nora to fall at your feet because you bought her a drink? If it’s that simple to you, hire a sex worker. At least then she’ll know going in that you think the barest of human kindness and ten dollars entitles you to a blow job. As for Nora, did you really like her? Want to get to know her? Or only fuck her?”
“Does it matter?” he retorts with an eye roll that lets me know he didn’t hear a single thing I said.
“Yes, it matters!” I bark, losing my cool a bit. “Why are you here if you think I’m a scam?”
Lucas sits, sullenly silent for a moment. “Because I have friends in this club and they believe in you. But it’s hard. It’s hard when every girl I meet ends up being a fucking whore who wants to be railed by a football star or trained by the whole team.”
I sit forward in my chair, pinning him with my eyes so he hears this loud and clear. “Lucas, I’m not teaching you to act a certain way or to use niceness as a means to an end,” I chastise him. “It’s got to be who youare.You have to actually care about other people, including the women you want to date. It’s not aboutwhatyou’re doing, it’s aboutwhyyou’re doing it. Right now, you’re not a nice guy.” I pause, letting that sink in before throwing an even harder truth. “You’re an insecure asshole with a superiority complex, but you can do better, be better.”
“Whatever,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
I half expected him to jump up to throw hands. But the fact that he took that sitting tells me that he already knows I’m right, he just doesn’t like it. So I temper my tone a bit to be more encouraging because ultimately, I don’t want to tear him down. I want to build him up.
“You care about your friends enough to be here? That shows you’re a good friend. Use that as a jump-point for how to think about others and to communicate your needs. If your buddy wanted pizza and you wanted a burger, you’d say so. Yeah?” I ask, and he nods. “It’s the same with romantic relationships. If you want a fuck buddy, find a woman who wants that too and tell her upfront. If you want a deeper romantic partner, you have to be desirable as a partner first.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Lucas says sarcastically, standing up and stomping out of the room.
