I used to be one of those people that wondered how it’s possible to slam one’s hand in a car door. Mystery solved!

This morning, during a scatterbrained moment of trying to maneuver in the space between my car and the crap that’s on the side of my garage, I closed the door and felt an excruciating pain. I wasn’t expecting to see my ring finger still attached to my hand, but it was there. And with only the tiniest of scratches on my top knuckle. I guess I was lucky.

The highlight of my evening last night was an interview with Leslie Talbot, author of Singular Existence: Because It’s Better To Be Alone Than To Wish You Were. Be on the lookout in the next few weeks for that column in RedEye. And please read her book! It’s a good lesson for anyone who is even thinking about settling just for the sake of being half of a couple.

The column released today, and I have to say that the only complication in writing for a newspaper – a Tribune publication, no less – is that I get heavily edited for all things profane and edgy. The latest column, which I titled “The Nice Guy” got a liberal chopping, which took out all of the funny bits that I loved when I wrote it.

So, as a special treat (probably more of a treat for me than anyone), see below for the unedited, raw version of the column. Feel free to let me know whether you prefer the original or the published edit.

And by the way . . . I often feel like I’m writing. Why the hell are you guys so quiet? Comment, already, wouldja?! Jeez!

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The Nice Guy
by Gina B.

I was recently having a conversation with a stranger in a bar, and I heard a familiar lament: “Women say they want to date nice guys, but they really don’t. I’m a nice guy, and it’s hard to find dates. Women would rather date the men who screw them over.”

For once, I didn’t say what I really wanted to say, which was that there must be something missing with this guy.

This particular specimen was the card-carrying nice guy. He was attentive, employed good listening skills, was eager to give up his seat for a woman, asked great questions, seemingly very considerate . . . the list goes on. So, what was the problem? There wasn’t really a problem, but he also didn’t inspire any of the women he talked to break out the cell phones and record the digits. Nice is a wonderful trait, and a good start, but unfortunately, sometimes it’s not enough.

Let’s be realistic – we all want to date nice people, men and women alike. We like to be treated with respect. I have never known anyone who sets out to find a person who treats them like crap. I’ve witnessed some sick and twisted relationships, but . . . seriously? Regardless of how the relationship turns out, none of my friends have ever said, “What I need is a man who beats me and calls me bitch.”

Nice, as a descriptor, has unfairly garnered a somewhat negative connotation. I know it sounds bad, but if a friend is trying to fix me up with someone and the only good thing she can say is: “He’s a nice guy,” I avoid that meeting like Hepatitis A through C. It’s not what she said, it’s what she didn’t say. She didn’t say “He’s nice and cute,” or “He’s nice and funny.”

What’s the difference? There’s a huge difference. Nice and funny or nice and cute could be great boyfriend material. But nice, just nice? That’s a friend.

Men feel the same way. If I’m thinking of making a love connection between two friends, I’ve learned never to describe the woman as a “nice girl.” Similar to women, men jump to terrible conclusions, and automatically envision a wildebeest with no sense of style who hasn’t had a date in three years and whose idea of sleepwear is a flannel nightgown and matching chastity belt. But she’s very sweet. And she can bake a mean apple pie. Just like her hunchback grandma. Whom she closely resembles.

Now, before I receive hate mail from the American Society of the Nice and Overlooked, I believe that as we mature, we learn to have a deeper appreciation for the nice guy.

As teenagers, those of us who hadn’t figured it out went for a recipe of two parts Hot Rebel with a half-cup of Asshole and a dash of Nice Guy thrown in as a sweetener.

Tastes change in early adulthood, and so does our recipe. Rebel has a bitter after-taste, so that ingredient is eliminated (also, aged Rebel turns into Felon). We opt, instead, for equal parts of Gorgeous and Sexy with a quarter cup of Arrogant and a tablespoon of Nice.

As we develop a healthy appetite for Nice, the recipe changes yet again. Other ingredients are eliminated for bad side-effects. Arrogant is too spicy and gives us indigestion, while Gorgeous is fattening. The new blend includes equal parts of Nice and Sexy, with generous handfuls of fresh spices: Intelligence, Confidence, Ambition, Humor and Loyalty. They add flavor and a rich aroma. Blend, bake and serve. As Rachael Ray would say: “Yumm-O!”

So, for those nice guys and girls out there, there are appreciative people. But it’s not just about being nice. We are all creations with special recipes. One ingredient, while it won’t make us sick, will probably not make for an interesting dish.

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