So. I did an experiment for you guys and you didn't even know it. I wanted to test my "there are no nice guys in New York" theory so I wrote this and then hung out with a nice guy for a week. He was really nice. He was southern and had dreams of law school and apologized when he was wrong. It was a shock to see. I couldn't look him in the eye so I would always make scrunch-faces when he tried to do so. I curled my body up in these contorted, hardened shapes because I thought that would keep him out. But in just one week my guard fell because OMG he was so nice and OMG I'm only 21 I should be less jaded.
Lol, jk. I'm still jaded. Um... tremendously so. Get this: there are no nice dudes in New York. They might pretend to be nice but soon they will get scrunch-face too when you try to look them in the eye and then some kind of panic alarm will go off in your brain and soon you'll get an e-mail that's like "I hope we can be friends." (We can't) At least this cultivated my self-loathing some more. That was an area I was kind of lacking before. I think that's why I was dating mean guys: cuz I love myself so much. But then I dated a nice guy and he was kind of a jerk and I got the chance to reinstate my self-loathing. I knew some good would come from this.
But seriously there are no nice guys in New York. If you have dreams of kissing romantically at Chelsea Piers or holding hands beneath the table at Cafeteria, you are probably a douche bag, but you are also a dumbass because it's not going to happen.
Just some truth for you. You can thank me for doing the experiment in the name of J&J by allowing me to stew in my own self-pity for awhile (and getting blackout drunk) without calling it out in the comments.