Dear Nice Guy,

How’ve you been?

No, don’t answer that.

I kind of know the answer already. You’ve been good. Maybe a little closed off from the world, busy recovering from the latest heartbreak in your life.

Busy taking stock of what’s around you, how best to move forward.

And then, one day, among all that chaos, you found me. You thought I was nice, that I seemed fun.

We talked, we talked some more.

Chemistry? Sure.

Let’s do this, we were both thinking.

But what, exactly, is “this”?

That’s the question I asked you, on our third date, when fourth and fifth dates seemed likely.

I wanted to know what you wanted – did you just want sex, no strings attached?

Did you want commitment, something serious and calculated from the start?

Or did you want what most people want when they meet someone new and nice – to just keep things going and see where they went?

If you gave me the first answer, I would probably say yes. We’d sleep with each other, and then I would not see you again. Why? Because I’m looking for something a bit more long-lasting, maybe.

If you gave me the second, I think it would have been a toss-up. Straight up commitment when I barely know you? Sounds a bit clinical, that’s what Shaadi.com is for.

But you – you gave me the answer I wanted. And yet you didn’t.

You said, “I don’t know. I’m not ready for commitment or a full-on relationship yet. But let’s see where this goes.”

Ah. That magic word.

Yet.

See, here’s the thing, Mr. Nice Guy.

If you tell me you aren’t ready to plunge into love just yet, I – like any sane person with a reasonable grasp of language – infer that you’ll get there, someday.

That you’re willing to get there.

And that you’re willing to try and get there with me, otherwise, why are you sitting there, holding my hand?

So I say yes.

I smile at you, and little by little, and I let you have pieces of my heart, until it’s all yours.

And then I ask you the magic question. “So, it’s been a while. Where are we going with this? Because I’m starting to love you.”

And you – you, the master of deflection, with your insidious, poisonous yet –

You give me a look of the greatest surprise, of hurt taken-aback-ness, of sorrow because this isn’t what you intended, and you tell me, “I thought you knew…I’m not really ready for a relationship. I’m not ready to trust anyone again.”

Cue laundry list of terrible things that happened with your ex. Or exes.

You don’t even give a damn about me, do you?

You selfish, selfish man.

Let me get my bearings a bit. Let me cry. Let me muster up the energy for anger.

I need to access that lurking, blackening well of rage inside me, the one that screams for attention every time I think of you, and your semi-open promise of a someday, with that yet.

Next time, Mr. Nice Guy, be the asshole.

Just tell me you want sex, and a few laughs.

Just tell me you’re a broken shell of a human being.

Just tell me you’re a coward who’d rather go the tortoise-in-his-shell route than confront his demons.

Just think of it as an exercise in courtesy, because anything else would be a lie.

Or just go lock yourself in your room till you’re ready to face humanity again.

But don’t – don’t ever let that one damning word leave your mouth again.

Don’t raise my hopes, don’t unlock a door you never intend to open.

Don’t ever tell me you’re not ready….yet.

Love,

The Nice Girl Whose Heart You Broke