I'll never claim to be a modern-day Lothario when it comes to my dalliances with women, nor would I profess to hold an infinite and complex understanding of them in general. I've had my conquests and subsequent failures, licked my wounds, and moved on. The hidden saving grace among the dating rat race we all run is the eventual realization, which hopefully comes to one sooner rather than later, that you, as the individual, need to rule your own kingdom. It's very easy to allow your own being, and your own ethos, to become an ambiguous mess when too great of an impetus is placed on finding someone, regardless of the reasons behind it. Most likely, we've all been there. I have, and while it was far from my darkest hour, it still proved to be an at times frighteningly confusing period. Once you lose your true sense of self, you can no longer accurately differentiate between wants and needs. Purely external factors manipulate and alter internal desires. You simply are no longer you.
The real point is accepting your own haste and coming to terms with your own being. You don't point fingers, you don't lay blame elsewhere, and you always look inward. Otherwise, insecurities and other perceived failures only further imbrue and can unknowingly manifest themselves in some terrible, awful ways. In the downward spiral of thinking less about yourself, you also choose to see the worst in others, finds faults (real or imagined) in those around you, and bitterness and spite reign supreme. You become cynical in your pursuit of interests, calculated in your motives, and you lose the humanity which should define us. People are no longer viewed as fellow humans, but as mathematical queries from which you seek to derive a formula to solve and extract whatever value it is you want out of them.
Or, of course, you can lie to yourself, throw your hands in the air, and say "well, shit, I'm just a nice guy and women don't respect me", which some cynical, broken bastards do on a daily basis.
There's nothing more annoying than the archetypal bullshit "nice guy", barely masquerading his pent-up frustrations and budding misogyny as an "aw shucks" down-on-his-luck trope. If your intellectual study of women stopped at the age of 16 because one-too-many girls you longed for opted for the perceived bad boy, and you aped through your college years being a wallflower and convincing yourself over and over again that you simply aren't "interesting" or "edgy" enough to be taken seriously, you very easily could become this guy. Most adult women can smell you from a mile away.
And, admit it, if you are "that guy", you're dangerous. Yes, you. Are. Not. Safe.
Seriously, own up to it. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Your faux-nice act and pseudo-emotional attentiveness is a contrived act meant to overcompensate for your own perceived lack of manliness. You, and no one else, decided you aren't suave enough, attractive enough, or ANYTHING enough to be honest and straight up about much at all. You don't really care about her problems, her past boyfriends, and her life in general. "She", no matter how high a pedestal you try to place her on, is nothing but a prize; a mythical princess you don't wish to save but to acquire and keep as validation that you can use emotional manipulation and otherwise trick into procuring. "She" isn't a person to you. Hell, you probably think all women are beneath you. If you have honestly convinced yourself you can use smoke and mirrors to win someone over, you obviously do not hold their intellect in high esteem, right? I mean, they're just "dumb bitches", right? They just always seem to fall for the dumb jocks who treat them like shit, right? Right? Answer me, motherfucker.
You know what, don't bother. You know why women don't take you seriously? For one, acting like a lap dog isn't attractive to any woman with an IQ in the triple digits and with any self-respect. People in general actually like a confident, headstrong individual, so playing the doting "good listener" role over and over again isn't winning you any points in the "okay, this guy has his shit together and can go places" department. There's no intrigue, character, or soul there. You might as well be a piece of furniture.
Furthermore, there's enough of you out there that most women have already run afoul with someone like you before. They've had a friend in their past who sprung into action during a time of vulnerability and stress, made themselves oh-so-emotionally available, and it too perfectly segued into something more. That is, until the rug was pulled out from under them and it became clear "attentive friend" was nothing more than an opportunistic fuckface. Game, set, and match.
See, guy? Your inherent dishonesty is the problem. The "jerk" you despise, displaying swagger and pretty much everything you believe you don't have and can't flaunt yourself? At least, for the most part, he's honest...at least more honest than you are. If you don't want to hear another sob story about an asshole ex-boyfriend from someone you like, you can tell her so. Don't want to go to Bed Bath & Beyond to help a romantic interest buy a new set of bath towels? Then don't go. It's actually pretty simple; don't do or say shit you don't want nor mean. Live your goddamn life and try, at least once, to stop worrying about made-up bullshit. You'll be better for it.
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