Thursday, July 16, 2009

REPOST: Ode to the Nice Girls

by Jessica Leigh Griffith

This is my tribute to the nice girls.

To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.

This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.

This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.

This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.

This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.

So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.

So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)

REPOST: Ode to the Nice Guys

This rant was written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal.

This is a tribute to the nice guys.

The nice guys that finish last, that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing “serious” between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: “oh, but we’re just friends!” And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as “oh, he’s too nice to date” or “he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me” or “he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!” or the most frustrating of all: “no, it would ruin our friendship.” Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

People Watching.

It's probably one of my favorite past times nowadays.
It gives me that sense of sanity I need in this crazy world I'm living in.

I don't know what it is about watching people and what they do that relaxes me.
I don't know, maybe it's becuase I like thinking about what's really happening in their lives and trying to figure out what's going on in their heads.
I guess, in a way, it helps me in my creative process.
It prevents me from being brain dead, sort of.

It's a good thing I work near Greenbelt.
Such a nice play to hang out and just pass the time.
Lets me be at peace...well, most of the time.

Over the past few days, I've seen interesting people.
Not because they're popular or anything.
From my point of view, they tell me something more than meets the eye.

Oh how I love to watch people.
It gives me something to look forward to.

When it hits me, it hits me hard...

Every single person in this world waits for love in their life.
Some people say love didn't come to them but it was right in front of their eyes.
Some people wait a lifetime for true love.

I should know, I'm still waiting for my true love.

Is it love or infatuation? That is always my contemplation.
But I started believing the confusion is the first sign of falling in love.
And I've learned that to fall in love is a risk everyone should take.

I admit -- I am afraid.

I am afraid that I will fail to see the one who loves me was standing right in front of me.
I am afraid that he will fail to see that I love him in return.
I am afraid that I am waiting too long to tell him how I feel...because it might be too late then.

Every now and then, I wish it was then instead of now.

So that I can finally say...
When I found you, I felt as if my heart found its destination.
I prayed to God to reveal the person who loves me; He revealed you.

Or maybe I've already met him.

Then I'd be telling him...
You have no idea what you do to me.
And even if you did, you'd probably still do it anyway.

Whatever happens.
Wherever he is.
I truly believe I'll know.

He may not be the most attractive, he may not say all the right words, but when I see him, I'll know because he's the one that can make you smile, laugh, and cry all at the same time.

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Blogging on a Sunday.

It's a Sunday afternoon and I'm feeling restless in this rather rainy day.

I shouldn't be feeling restless. In fact, I should be very busy. But somehow, I'm not. I guess it's because I'm burned out. After months of nothing but work, I finally felt how exhausted I really am from the work I've put in the magazine. Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely in love with my job and I wouldn't trade my place with anyone at this point. Unless, of course, that person is the ever-so-wonderful Lea Salonga, then that would be a different story. Hahaha!

The realization just hit me that after a year of working, I have yet to take a vacation. And by vacation, I mean, no worries about work and just plain relaxing. I did plan to use my vacation leave last month but things kept piling up for work that I couldn't possibly go.

So here I am blogging about how tired I am. But then again, I shouldn't really be dwelling on my exhaustion. The real reason why I'm blogging is because I want to make my day productive, to say the least. So that I can go to sleep tonight thinking that I did something worthwhile. Yes, I consider blogging worth my while. It is after all a way for me to vent out whatever it is that bothering me or just share with those who read my blog my emotions.

It's nice to know that I'll always have this blog. Because I can always release whatever is inside me, even if I'm too shy to talk to my family about this or if I'm sad that my best friend is thousands of miles away from me and I can't just go to her.

I've noticed that I haven't really given myself time to relax. Oftentimes, I say I'm going to take a break...only to be followed by me opening my laptop and start working. It's really hard to let go of work. Just last week, I had an impromptu lunch with an old college professor. The first thing he asked me as we were catching up was "Where's your boyfriend?"

And my response was "No time for boyriends, Sir."

I got my share of criticisms about that response. He was, to say the least, appalled. It was as if it was a horrible, tragic news. He kept thinking why after my 23 years of existence I am still without a boyfriend. If I didn't know any better, he's writing a book about why women are single and I'm the subject for that book.

Meanwhile, there I was thinking of ways on how I could divert my professor's attention to something other than my non-existent love life. But my professor is not an easy person to divert attention. He rambled on by enumerating 5 possible reasons why I'm still single.
  1. Too busy with work
  2. Too choosy with guys
  3. Very high standards
  4. I isolate myself
  5. Just blind to see who's really into me

That's just on top of his head. And my response to those five reasons would be these...

Too busy with work. It's not that I only want to work. But there's just a lot of things going on in the office, I barely have time to think for myself let alone entertain the thought of dating. It's not that I don't want to go out on a date. The reason behind it also is one has asked me out and therefore, no date can be arranged.

Too choosy with guys. Like I've mentioned earlier, no one has asked me out. So how could I choose if there's no one to choose from, right?

Very high standards. I beg to defer. I don't have very high standards. What's wrong with looking for a guy who doesn't smoke? Who goes to church every Sunday? Who is my opposite in terms of personality? That's not too much to ask. I just haven't met anyone who "fits the bill." In Steve Harry's Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, he wrote about how women have the power over men in terms of...he wouldn't hold your hand if you won't let him; he wouldn't kiss you if your won't let him. So why in heaven's name would a woman relinquish that power just so she could "get some"?

I isolate myself. Ok, so I admit -- I'm a home buddy. But I make sure that once a week, I get together with friends just to hang out. But the thing is, there aren't really any guy friends to get together with. As a matter of fact, I only have one guy friend I get together with and he's one of my closest guy friends. As for my other guy friends, well, not much time to hang out with them. If they're not so busy, they're with their no luck there.

Just blind to see who's really into me. Oh gosh! I assure one's into me. I give you my word. Guys generally see me as "the best friend" material. There has yet to be a guy who can muster up the guts to even ask me out on a date. If there's such a guy, let me know. Hahaha!

Anyway, I better go. I'll continue my random blogging in my next entry.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Saturday Blogging.

Too often these days, we get so caught up in the mundane details of our lives that we forget to see the wonder in what we have, in the loves and friendships we find in our lives. We are so busy with our academic loads and our daily jobs that we forget to see the miracles all about us. Weighed down by our every day lives, we forget that fairy tales can come true.

There is magic in love, beauty in friendship. Is it not a miracle that in all the wide world, two people might find each other, fall in love, and spend their lives with one another? Sometimes when life treats us unfairly, when love leaves us broken-hearted, we forget that someday our prince will come. But if we open our hearts to the wonder about us, our own fairy tales can come true.

Believing in the magic in everyday life, seeing that our lives can be fairy tales, doesn't mean that the real world is any less there. Bills still need to be paid, daily jobs must be worked. But happiness is something we choose to have, as much as it is something we find, and when you choose to see the wonder in your life, miracles can happen.

In this world of rent, bills, and jobs, two people might - through a series of amazing coincidences - meet. Become friends. Fall in love. Find in each other they kind of quiet solace and passionate love that is the envy of others.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009



Softly falling down
each drop a symphony of sound
as it hits the tin roof

It can sound just like a sad song with a slow beat
the kind that makes you daydream
and feel sad and sigh
as you think of what might of been or could be in your life.

Or maybe it is a happy song that brings back sweet memories
tender thoughts and special smiles
thinking of someone who makes your heart beat faster
and your laughter ring with happiness and joy.

Or maybe it is a love song
with sweet and soft lyrics
tender and romantic and sensual
that makes you think of dancing in the rain.

Only you can decide which song
is the one you are hearing
which music soothes your soul
and which song you want to sing along with.

Sometimes, you have to choose a song
and the choosing isn't easy.