I just realized a recent acquaintance is a nice guy. I thought the nature of our relationship was that we looked out for each other on the road. Maybe take meal breaks together if it works out that way. Share gossip and information.
I had an accident recently and asked him to take me to and from the pharmacy as he made his rounds the next morning. He did. We live about ten minutes away from each other. I asked him to come get me on his way out, and then drop me back home at his convenience. When he was dropping me off at my house, he hinted that he wanted to be invited inside.
He does know I have an open marriage. Partially to test his intentions, and partially because it was true, I told him my husband was home. He said to let him know if I need anything, and left. The dudes I smash have all checked on me. One said to let him know when he could see me. Said he needed to see for himself that I'm as okay as I say I am, and that he wouldn't feel settled about it until he could look into my ears and eyes for himself, and hold me until all his fears for me were assuaged. And when that dude says cuddle, he really means cuddle. He's not being nice. He's good to me. Always. I had a concussion and temporarily had memory and hearing loss. My friends with benefits have real concern for me. They are really my friends. I haven't heard anything from Mr. Nice Guy.
Oh. How would he have passed that test? Well, at any point in our interactions so far, he could have asked to clarify whether we would always be platonic, or if I would consider sometimes hooking up with him. I mean, if he's picking up on my attraction, that's real. He's exactly my cup of tea, a flawless specimen of my idealized image of masculine beauty. I wouldn't be surprised if he's sometimes caught me staring. I've caught myself. And I do flirt with him, but when his flirtation goes too far, I say, "Okay, D. You stop it. Your lady is not coming after me to demand pistols at dawn." And yeah, I did consider breaking my very firm rule about shitting where one eats. He wasn't far away once when I had a muscle spasm and didn't feel safe driving home. He gave me the most incredible massage. Nothing overtly sexual about it, but the strength and dexterity in his hands turned me all the way on. But the next day I found out he was married. So, I assumed all the flirting was just harmless fun, and that he was nice to me to be nice to me. After all, I'm nice to him just to be nice to him.
The other way to pass the test would have been to ask to meet my husband. "Oh, he's here? Does that mean I finally get to meet him?" I would have responded by inviting him to bring his wife and son to supper. Right now, he just kinda looks like just another handsome man who pretends to be nice to me so I'll be worn down enough to sit on his dick some day. He's been pleasant to have around, so I hope that's not true.
But this is what "nice" means to me. This is what "nice" always is. It's just a ploy to fuck me. I might be a bitch, but I'm not a basic bitch. I was born on a Wednesday, but it wasn't two days ago. I know to wait and see if a man is being nice, or if he is good.