I...The Nice Guy

"You know, when you reach that place where it stops hurting," he
paused for effect, "that's when you're really in trouble."

Sameh leaned back in his wooden chair and crossed his arms, satisfied
that he had finally managed to shut me up long enough for him to
finally make his point. I had spent the previous hour ranting and
raving to Sameh about my undying hate and severe disorientation
concerning the male species. I uncrossed my legs then crossed them
again. The short black skirt which I had put on earlier, hoping that
maybe I could lure Adam with my naked legs, was starting to get very
uncomfortable.

The truth is it had stopped hurting. A long time ago. Not only that,
but somewhere along the line I also stopped caring.

I had finally reached the comfortable place that could only be
described as apathetic. It didn't hurt when Sherif and Layla started
dating the day after his hand had "accidentally" found its way under my
shirt. I didn't care tonight when Adam introduced me to his girlfriend
two weeks after we had seemed to be hitting it off.

I'm used to it. I've actually been bracing myself. And I think that
now, after twenty years of falling flat on my perfectly made up face, I
have finally become completely immune.

Go ahead. Take your best shot.

I looked at Sameh who still seemed to be spouting wonderful words of
wisdom. Now there's a nice guy. Sameh would never play games. He would
never take advantage of an innocent girl, no matter what the situation.
Now why couldn't I ever fall for a guy like that?

"I really hate seeing you like this." He looked sympathetically into my
eyes and placed a reassuring hand on my bare knee. "One day I'm sure
you'll find a nice guy who will love an appreciate you for the
wonderful person I know you really are."

I sighed. Maybe he was right. There must be some nice guys out
there.

And right then Sameh's hand skillfully went from my knee up to my
thigh.

Never Mind?