I was really nice to a man, and he still didn’t want to go to bed with me
Despite being incredibly kind, I still didn’t make the cut
I was incredibly nice to a man recently. In fact, not recently, for ages. For months and months and months. A year and a half, if we’re going to go into specifics. I listened to all of his problems, I talked him up whenever he was sad, I gave him advice whenever he asked for some, I cared about him when he was lonely, and I forgave him whenever he screwed up. And; after all that, he had the absolute audacity not to bang me.
Shocking, I know.
Despite the fact I had decided to treat him like a human being who deserved my compassion, respect, and engagement, he still didn’t want to open his legs. Even though I’d spent my time, energy and mental labour making sure he was happy, he wouldn’t lie down and satisfy my bodily lust. How selfish could a person possibly be? More than that, he even seemed hurt and upset that I’d deliberately and tactically pretended to be his friend for years just to get my leg over when enough nice-debt had built up.
“But I’m attracted to you and I want to,” I whined. “Don’t I deserve sex from you? Just once? I’m a nice girl. Why do you only want horrible bad bitches who hurt you? Is it because I’m 5ft 7?”
