I dated a nice guy, and it was the best desicision of my life. I'm a woman, and a rather attractive one at that. I used to be the stereotypical cheerleader, you know, with the long blonde hair and more pep than state in space. Anyways, I used to date all the jocks at high school. They were the big manly men, and yes, I had sex with a lot of them. When I was 18, I began strangely feeling slightly disatisfied with my QB BF's. They were the best guys around as my girlfriends would say to me. I had only one male friend who wasn't an athlete I dated or had sex with. I felt like I could tell anything to him. No matter how bad my problems were, he could take them and return a solution to me. Even when grandma died in a car crash, he was there for me. Come to think of it, he really loved me. I feel kinda bad that I didn't realize it at the time. But it doesn't matter now that I'm married to him. He's the kindest, most logical, most loving, best man I could ask for. He said himself that when western civilization comes crashing down, he's going to be holding two things: A gun to protect me in one hand and me in the other. Ladies, if you're reading this, please, for fuck's sakes, actually give nice guy's a fair fighting chance. They won't betray or hurt you. They'll be there for you. They're the most wonderful men ever and I've happy to be married to one.
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