The invisible man finishes last in this race

By Daniel Gingras

December 01, 2005

In the expression “nice guys finish last,” the word nice is a misnomer. The real truth in the saying is that “timid guys finish last.” Passive men who proclaim this credo are probably misconstruing as niceness the qualities in themselves that make them invisible to (or repulse) the women they desire. Guys afraid to act on their feelings or apprehensive to share their emotions are the ones who get left in the lurch. It’s saddening to sense that desperation in somebody’s tone, when their struggles have sunk them to complaining about finishing last though they’re not even racing. How can they expect to win a race while standing still? Men interested in women need to put their efforts into acting, not into whining.

Sure, being “nice” might exclude you from “bad-boy” women who like to suck face with motorcycle riders and ass-kickers, but using niceness as your excuse for the mild forms of cowardice that bore or disinterest women will keep you from all of them. Simply being “nice” is a big plus to most women. Ensure your definition doesn’t include “inhibition” or “fear-induced paralysis” and your stock will go up. By God, if you’re falling in love with the girl, if to you she’s beautiful, find the courage to tell her, take the chance and kiss her. You have everything to gain and nothing to lose. She will not gravitate to you magically, no matter how strong your feelings burn inside your head. The sad fact is she’s more likely to end up with some womanizing asshole simply because he had the courage to kiss her passionately or say I love you (even if he’s lying! You wouldn’t be lying! Say it! Say it already!). Most bad-boy relationships are doomed to disintegrate, but you’ll never know what your chances are if you’re too busy writing nice letters to the nice editor about your nice problems.

The Web site lifetips.com gives a top ten list of qualities women look for in men, which sites both “confidence” and “showing love.” And, a surprise to pessimistic nice guys: the list also cites “kindness,” ranked higher than either of the first two. See, it’s a mix of all these ingredients in Aphrodite’s recipe that bakes the love cake.

For fear I’m being too mean, I need to declare that I sympathize with the nice guys. I really do. It’s the nice guys who’ll make trophy boyfriends and grade-A husbands when they learn to assert themselves. I’m a nice guy. My passion for this topic comes from my personal experience with the futility of expecting good women to happen to you, and the depressing feelings of being trapped in last place. But I also bring good news: I escaped from that dead end, and so can anyone else who can quit their bad habits. Start small and think big. Start a conversation with a strange girl you think is cute, and ask her for her number. Tell a girl something complimentary and true that you feel about her. Get her flowers. Write her a love letter. The big risk is that a girl might never know how you feel unless you gesture to her with words or acts. Who knows, maybe she secretly waits for you to do so, having giddy-hot dreams about you by night and penciling your name all over her class notes by day, dotting your I’s with hearts and crossing your t’s with cupid arrows. And what if, despite your hopes, it backfires? The worst you should expect is a “nice” no thanks.

For comments, questions, or to have Daniel shoot Cupid’s bow straight into your timid heart, write to dgingras@calpoly.edu.

F--- Buddies

By Daniel Gingras

November 17, 2005

There is a curious practice in society today. Telephone “calls” are made to “booty,” “benefits” are obtained from “friends” and “buddies” are “f---ed around with. There are a lot of euphemisms thrown around for that naughty but thrilling interaction: a relationship founded solely on recreational sex. Urbandictionary.com even cites the absurdly amusing term “slampiece,” sometimes abbreviated as “slamp,” and gives this contextual example: “Sorry I haven’t come to work in the past month, I’ve been busy shagging my new slampiece full time and couldn’t walk straight.”

Some would scoff at the idea of minimizing a relationship to the concert of sub-torso anatomy, but for others it’s a way of life. Type “f--- buddy” into Google.com, and the search engine presents a lengthy list of sites akin to X-rated Facebooks with thousands of members. Sites like www.hotmatchup.com or www.f***-buddies.com, geared towards pairing eager swingers, provide single click access to a master list of sexual actives hot to trot. Curious, I submitted my name and e-mail address, checked a box to verify I was 18, and then browsed an overflowing page full of San Luis Obispans, interested in all sorts of activities ranging from sodomy to public sex. 

Despite the hedonistic allure, “friends with benefits” is a losing proposition in the long run. 

There’s a fair chance for things to quickly go sour between recreational lovers. The pretense of feeling-free fooling around is often just the gimmick of a partner seeking love or affection, and that partner will be disappointed or heartbroken when a true relationship does not materialize. Things will get particularly ugly as he or she tries to force what just isn’t there, slipping into desperation. If you find yourself on the carefree end of sex with no strings, beware that trouble is probably brewing. Problems with jealousy and betrayal can arise too, when partners don’t feel that obligation to share with each other their true intentions. Partner A finds out that Partner B has also been sleeping with C, D and E, which is technically not against the rules, but hurtful to A nonetheless. I’ve known one person who is typically “in love” with two to three people at a time, but is careful to keep those loves from crossing. 


Worse, these practices form bad habits that are hard to kick if a good chance at a real relationship comes along. You might spoil the love of your life simply because you are in the habit of sleeping around without consequence. You might hurt a person you potentially care about because sex and intimacy do not have the gravity for you that it does for them.

Worst, you might somehow build up immunity to the feelings of love that are true human gratification.

The last downfall people describe to is that a purely sexual relationship can become boring without anything reinforcing it. Sure, there’s probably lustful, passionate sex in the beginning, and a shared joy in that will keep partners together for a while. But a variety of interests is necessary for stimulation of the mind, and a variety of sexual acts alone cannot fulfill this desire. Eventually partners will realize, and dread, that sex is utterly the only thing they have between them. The relationship becomes valueless and uninteresting. One can only tolerate so many wordless humps and lifeless conversations before venturing on to more promising things. Meeting a new girl with great tits or a fresh guy with pectorals that double as can openers might start this whole pattern over again. But what the desperate sexaholic really aught to try is to bond with someone over something besides looks and sex.

The obnoxious instruments of seduction

By Daniel Gingras

November 10, 2005

In the 550 words that follow, I will complain about “plumage.” I will focus my superpowers as a writer of commentary by complaining about the various obnoxious instruments of seduction you women are employing to attract men. By this, I mean clothing, accessories, makeup; things that as men we are completely in the dark about. But ignorance does not deny preference.

You have been warned.

Ladies, where does your inclination to bear large and hideous purses, which seem better suited to smuggling severed heads or transporting bowling balls, come from? If you actually produced from your poke a handle of Ketel One vodka or a chocolate cake, that would be a different story, and I would be enticed. Presently, they are either pointlessly vacant, or pointlessly loaded with a clutter of tampons, nail files and your 128-shade collection of multi-purpose lip-gloss. It is an embarrassing but true fact that men are often stuck carrying these abominations. We do not like lugging your useless crap in a big ugly sack. Put something in there for us to snack on or reward us with sexual favors in exchange for this effeminizing chore. Equally but oppositely frustrating is your tendency to carry handleless purses of such petite creation that no practical object will fit within them, and still they are barely too big to function as a wallet. As men, we know that the superior place to store all valuables that must be carried on your person is flush against the right buttock.

Ladies, why do you insist on cladding your feet in large pointy-toed shoes? In China women have gone to the trouble of binding their feet for centuries. Now you oppose their progress by employing shoes that make your feet more ogre-ly. We burned witches once in this country, and for your crimes in the name of seductive fashion, I would not hesitate to begin the burnings anew. And we know that your toes are not really shaped like that. You are not fooling anyone.

It is also doubtless these air pockets between where your toes really are and the false front of the shoes are conducive to your problematic foot odor. I spend my nights at dance clubs paralyzed in the constant fear that one among your witch pact will become over enthusiastic in dance, high kick and impale my unoffending eyeball upon the tip of her overpriced footwear.

And, to paraphrase the words of Marge Simpson, “the makeup gun is set on whore.” No matter where you are going for the evening, I assure you that they are not holding the tribal war paint contest that you appear to be painted for. Personally, I have bought lipstick, and I know that, among other things, it is overpriced. I have also worn makeup, and I will share with you the only reason for this that I can see fit: to hide the world’s most violently black and purple hickey.

I am so worked up at this point that I am not able to start in on the lunacy of your oversized sunglasses.

Ladies, what I do like is the lingerie. Thank you, Victoria’s Secret, for being the one constructive source in a female fashion world that is littered with foolhardiness.

For questions, comments, or to write Daniel an extremely angry email defending your ugly clothing, write to dgingras@calpoly.edu.

On Monogamy

By Daniel Gingras

November 03, 2005

I have two major gripes with monogamy. The first is the exclusion of the ménage à trois. (Impensable!) The second is monogamy’s persistent elusion of me. (Tragique!) Actually, the ménage à trois continues to elude me too. (Quelle surprise…)

In my mind there are only two states: the state of being in a monogamous relationship, and the state of searching for one.

The first state: You have everything you want contained within one person. Why would you ever stray? There are many pitfalls. Take the example of the foolish monkey Abu in Disney’s "Aladdin." Do not touch the forbidden treasure and unleash the wrath of the liquid hot magma when it is truly the lamp that you seek. Don’t fall victim to the “grass is greener” complex, either. Despite an impulsive male mentality, your monogamous relationship is not instantly shelfable just because some freshman vixen wearing Uggs and a narrow sash she mistook as a mini-skirt is shaking her rump in your general direction. You can step out of the tempting situation and recall the energy you place into that relationship, and the satisfaction of having a partnership that is uniquely yours and your other’s. You shouldn’t cheapen that by darting around unseen. But don’t mistake opportunity for a pitfall, either. If your recollections are doubtful, and the choice to quit is substantial enough, maybe go for it. Have the respect and the courage to tell your other before you end your relationship and endeavor to begin a new one. If it’s an incredibly urgent chance and you’re pressed (warning: not at all classy) you might act first and explain as soon as you can. We tend to forget in these moments that to act irresponsibly is to hurt the other person in seeking your own gain. I can’t endorse it, I just want to acknowledge that it happens, and that as humans we’re capable of a lot. Above all, we should realize there’s no reason to succumb to the “appeal to tradition” fallacy by justifying a relationship only because it has always been.

The second state: Free and clear, without loyalties to honor, your temptations become your investigations. Your promising rump didn’t pan out, but what do you care? Now your every interaction with members of the opposite sex is on some level a thrilling test, because you grade each one on personality, looks, talents, goals. Whatever your criteria is, when you find an A+ you will go in for the kill. Every smile in the street, sexual encounter, or “Pardon me, sir, but you’re staring at my rack” becomes a small reach towards that ideal of monogamy, with which you hope to literally ensnare the other person when he/she comes along. Fueled by a jealousy of happy couples and another “grass is greener” complex, all paths eventually lead back to the first state. But then, in a supremely ironic twist of cosmic fate, your new other violates your sacred monogamy, sending you reeling back unprepared and uneager into the second state.

The states are cyclical. Either you’re not looking because you’re satisfied, or you’re not satisfied because you still have to look.

To the person who will finish my cycle and put the lures in my life to rest, I am trying to find you.

For questions, comments or to ask me to write you romantic poetry in French, write to dgingras@calpoly.edu.