I use to be a nice guy. Three months in recovery. Even got a little coin for it. I go to meetings once a week and have a sponsor now. In the meetings, we usually huddle together, sharing war stories. The newer guys always cry in the beginning.

‘Why’, they look around perplexed, ‘why doesn’t she love me? I’m such a nice guy. I even prefer romantic comedies over nun-chucks.’

Afterward, we all go outside and practice karate.

I’m not going to lie, it isn’t easy, we take it one day at a time. And, dating sites, forget it. None of us are ready for that yet. Sometimes I see a post from a girl and I have to call my sponsor immediately.

‘I don’t know what to do’, I pace back and forth, ‘she needs to know that I’m a really cool guy with awesome skills.’

My sponsor always calms me down.

He says, ‘Listen man – if you have to talk to her talk to her like you would anyone. Don’t constantly remind her that she’s a woman and you’re a man. Don’t draw that parallel. Don’t be what you think she wants you to be but be who you are. Expectations is your enemy. Remember our motto: Girls are nice guys too, except, they suck at karate.’

Sure, sometimes, we hear of a guy thinking he was ready and he made a dating site profile. We don’t hear from him for months. He comes back, unshaven face, a twitch in his eye, his hair uncombed and some of it missing. He sits down, he covers his face with his hands. We don’t say anything, we don’t have too. We understand.

He starts to cry, ‘I held the door open for her! Doesn’t that mean we should go into a dark room and twerk naked for a few minutes until we both orgasm? Okay. Maybe just me?’

We shake our heads in agreement but also understand this is part of the program. To understand that not every nice action deserves an orgasm. But, still we sit confused why it can’t be like that.

Between all of us, there is an unspoken sadness, a loneliness underneath our eyelids, our fingernails, our lips. It speaks like a phantom that haunts us while peering over our shoulders. We understand we may never be cured. We may never understand one another or even women and all of life. For us, we will always be the epitome of self-destructive behavior and naive narcissism.

But, we huddle together, trying to find peace for that as we look on at those mysterious creatures with a hopeful glance and an understanding that we will probably never acknowledge any of this.
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