Perhaps you’ve seen this tweet from 2021 making its way around the internet lately. I saw it recently, and then I had the distinct pleasure of seeing R. delight in seeing it. “That’s perfect.” He laughed a little when he said it—the kind of gleeful chortle he does very occasionally that lets you peak at the little boy inside the grown man.
And I agree that the tweet is kind of perfect. It really captures the essence of Why, to cite a somewhat obnoxious book title, Men Marry Bitches. I think it also gives a few clues about the equally pervasive trope that “women love jerks.” I shared my theory on that last bit with R., and now, I’m going to share it with you.
Do I believe that women love jerks? Do I ascribe to the idea that nice guys finish last? Do I find myself attracted to men who act like assholes? Maybe a little! Leaving aside the toxicity of “Nice Guy Syndrome,” I think there’s something to be said for a man who will get a little loud when the situation calls for it. To put it in tweet form:
…because no one likes dealing with service providers that pull shady shit! But I also know full well that I’m not going to call them up and give them a piece of my mind. And aren’t women discouraged from doing that anyway? While I do believe the whole concept of a “Karen” is a necessary call out for people who are unreasonable with service workers, I’m not really trying to be that white lady, even in cases where I’m getting screwed, and I feel my frustration is justified.
R. has no such stigma attached to his behavior. I’ve heard him go 10 rounds with the insurance company over billing, their nonsense website, the lag time on the preauthorization process. He gets heated! And although I often find myself cringing in the other room, wishing he were a little kinder to the messenger, I also fully respect that there is a benefit to being the squeaky wheel. If companies never get called out for their shadiness, nothing ever changes, and we all keep getting billed into oblivion for a routine trip to the MD.
It certainly helps that white men are often celebrated for their “assertiveness.” It’s a privilege for sure, but one that can and should be used when you’re the David in an up-against-Goliath situation. That’s just one scenario. There are other moments where being with a nice guy isn’t going to cut it. I’ll give you an example.
A few years back, R. and I were visiting a friend in California named J. The three of us had just enjoyed brunch, and we were walking to a coffee shop to keep the party going before R. and I had to get back on the road. As we were walking, an erratic woman who was muttering to herself (and very clearly in the midst of a mental health crisis) started following us and called J., who is Taiwanese, a “fucking [slur I will not repeat].”
J. was unphased. This shit happens to her from time to time. She is the kind of person who leads with compassion and doesn’t take the ramblings of a rando personally. I was horrified but also a bit frozen. I felt completely unsure of what to do, other than ignore this woman and get our group away from her. R. didn’t hesitate: “You need to shut the fuck up.”
A “nice guy” would have been as useless as I was. R. wasn’t worried about how this woman might react. He was confident that he could handle the situation regardless of how it might escalate. And his confrontational approach worked. Whether the woman actually understood R. or not, she wandered off and left us alone.
To me, there’s a big difference between a too-nice guy, a true jerk and a guy who is kind but not a complete pushover. I’ve dated Mr. Nice Guy, and I had a hard time respecting him because he never stood up for himself. It put me in the position where I felt like I had to be the bitch. I did not care for it.
But I’ve also dated The Jerk, and that was equally unpleasant. I once watched him chew out a young worker at a laundromat because Jerk’s shirt wasn’t done when it was supposed to be. The young man was the son of the dry cleaner. He didn’t know anything about the shirt, and it wasn’t his promise made or work to do. I forced The Jerk to go back into the store and apologize. I’m sure he did a terrible job of it.
After swinging between those two pendulums, I met R. From the beginning, I liked that he wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself or for me. Years later, I love that I feel safe with him. I love that there are things he won’t put up with, and he’s willing to have an uncomfortable conversation when the situation calls for it. Most of all, I love that if someone ever needs to rage at the internet service company for jacking up our rate, that someone never has to be me.
With pleasure,
Yes, Misstrix
P.S. A couple weeks back, I wrote an essay about cults (that, for the record, was very divisive with this audience). In it, I talked about how lacking self-confidence makes it easier for the cults to get ya. It was quirkier and more nuanced than that (but only slightly). I draw your attention back to this piece because while I didn’t talk about one of the major factors that can contribute to a lack of self-worth (trauma), this article about cults preying on people’s trauma definitely does. It’s worth a read, and you don’t need to watch the show Yellowjackets to get something out of it.
P.P.S. I’m hosting a writing workshop in June, and I hope you’ll join me! Read all the details right here.