"Y'know, You're A Nice Guy, But..."

I admit it: I'm guilty of using it as a catch-all excuse to break off contact with a potential bedmate/lifemate in the absence of anything more meaningful. But in a half-hearted attempt to redeem myself, allow me to preface that most of the time, I use it because I can't bear to hurt someone's feelings with the awful truth. Yes, I am human; sue me.

If you are or have ever been the kind of guy who is perpetually on the receiving end of an excuse that begins like that, I've got something to share with you; you're the common denominator. I know it's sad, but maybe you'll learn from what I have to say, and use it as a stepping stone to making an effort in the future. If you truly believe that "nice guys finish last" adage, allow me to clue you in to a few things. I admit there are situations in which the genuinely nice, personable guys just can't seem to cut a break in love and life, but for the vast majority, there are a multitude of reasons. Among them:

• You're a nice guy, and we have a lot of fun together, but I cannot bear the thought of one more night on stunted conversation before, during and after sex. Go to college, read a newspaper, play hours upon hours of Trivial Pursuit... I don't care. Just do something to expand your intellectual horizons, for gawd's sake. You're pretty as hell, but fuckitall, you're dumb. Sidewalk turds on a hot August night serve more purpose than you, sitting there, mouth agape, just wasting precious oxygen.
• You're a nice guy, really, but unless you've got a reserve 3-4 inches hidden away in your abdominal cavity and are able to call it to action when pressed, I can't be with you. Y'see, sex shouldn't be all work for me, and as such, I shouldn't have to spend 30 minutes coaxing your timid little 2-inch turtle out of its shell. A great sense of humor doesn't quite make up for a dick that small.
  
• You're a nice guy, and I know this is a semi-blind date, but you're way uglier, hairier, and older than your picture. I'm not ageist, but do think it's reasonable to prefer not to fuck a man so close to my father's age. Just... ew. I mean, you're so ancient, you fart dust and sweat cobwebs. As for the hair, if you had any idea what I have to go through to keep my pink bits the way you men seem to like them, you'd wax that ass-'fro and hairshirt in a jiffy, my friend. Manscaping: learn it, live it, love it. And when I'm lying in bed, post-copulation, staring into your eyes, I'd rather that sight not be marred by the festering yellow-and-red pustules on your face. Call me shallow if you will, but outside of science-fiction conventions, cystic acne was never, ever a turn-on.
  
• You're a nice guy, but I need a man with enough sense to clip his nails before he fingers me. A g-spot is no place for phalangeal lacerations. I'm not asking for you to shell out for a spa manicure sans acrylics like I do, but the 80s are long over; you don't, in fact, need a coke spoon on your hand.
  
• You're a nice guy, but I want a bedmate who isn't quite so flatulent. My laughing it off the first time in an attempt to make you less embarassed is not free license to keep ripping stinky, warm, putrid ass all over my apartment and under the sheets, you disgusting pig.
  
• You're a nice guy to people you know, but a complete and utter asshole to strangers. Come to think of it, you're not so much a nice guy as you are a sanctimonious prick.
  
• You're a nice guy, but you get more wood from your many and varied material posessions than you do a nice pussy mere inches from your face. Big truck, small dick, motherfucker... I've seen the proof all night. Now just do us both a favor and drive off in your Suburban to go jerk yourself off into a pile of Dolce & Gabanna. I don't care if you drive a Maserati, and I don't give two shits that half your wardrobe is Versace; it won't make up for the fact that you'd need a forklift to get it up.
  
• You're a nice guy, but as far as sex is concerned, you suck more than 1,000 leeches in a vaccum at a vampire convention. And I'm not giving remedial classes. Go map a pussy on your own time.
• You're a nice guy, but you're way too clingly. One quick fuck does not mean I want to bear your children. One e-mail a day is sufficient. Two mentions of your adoration are enough. Three phonecalls a week is plenty. Four assertions that you'd make the perfect boyfriend are just way too fucking much.
• You're a nice guy, but you buy into that whole "Wait three days to call" bullshit far too much. That's a fine rule if you're a teenager and don't know better, but at this stage of life, that shit's just not necessary, man.
• You're a nice guy, but you just plain fucking smell bad. Soap, water... have you three met?
  

I'm sorry for being so cruel. Truth hurts, man. Which is why you should be thankful if and when her reasoning stops at "You're a nice guy, but this isn't going to work out. Sorry."

Edited to add one more:

• You're a nice guy, but, really... let's not shit ourselves.