When I was studying for my profession (more years ago than I care to admit), I chanced to be in a class with a Nice Guy. I was a recovering outcast, so people being friendly to me was a new experience; also, our dedicated building was fairly small with only one central common room, so you would eventually see everyone there. Thus, I didn't think anything of Nice Guy being there every time I turned around, and was just happy to have friends.
He hinted and hinted and hinted until some of our mutual friends informed me that he wanted to ask me out. Well, I was floored, because if I wanted to go out with someone, I usually had to take the initiative, and I was pretty often rejected. So, finally, I pretended to "get" one of his hints, and we agreed to meet one Saturday on campus, and drive together to the local boardwalk. I figured he wasn't so bad, maybe a little strange but not particularly strange, and after all, it was one afternoon of hanging out, not a commitment.
Unfortunately--or, perhaps, very fortunately--things went badly. Nice Guy insisted on driving, and he had no air conditioner in his car, so we were flying down the freeway with the windows open, right behind a semi truck for the entire forty-five minute drive. This was a problem because I have a sensitivity to diesel exhaust--not quite an allergy, but if I have to breathe it for long, I'm going to get a headache and nausea. Sometimes I get over it within half an hour, but sometimes I'm sick for the rest of the day. I tried to explain why this was a bad idea, that perhaps we could turn around and get my car and I could drive, but he was having none of it. (First red flag, but it was too late to do anything about it.) The sicker I got, the harder I tried to tough it out, but I was pretty miserable, and I'm not a good actress. By the time we got there, I felt like the semi had run me over.
But instead of asking me what was wrong, Nice Guy started chattering about what we would do: play some games, go to a restaurant, ride the roller coaster, spend the whole afternoon. He was literally oblivious to my suffering. I'm mostly trying not to spew all over him, so I'm just sort of vaguely nodding and not hearing him much. He got increasingly annoyed at me, and I felt increasingly bad about disappointing a friend. I asked to leave, but he said he was hungry, so we could leave after "we" ate. He wanted to go to the seafood restaurant and have a big ol' meal; there, he gave a complicated order with a lot of substitutions due to his "allergies". When the waitress had gone to turn it in, he slyly informed me that he wasn't actually allergic; he just didn't like those things.
That was when I decided this guy was an irredeemable asshole.
I was still very much "off", so I ordered a small dish of vanilla ice cream and that was it. Nice Guy proceeded to inform me that "anorexia won't solve your problems with your figure" (my BMI was 18.2 at the time, literally underweight), and that "no man's going to want you if you have mental problems". He also demanded to know why I'd agreed to come along if I wasn't going to do any rides or games. I reminded him--haltingly, because I didn't want to paint the table vanilla-white--that I was ill, and asked to leave. No, he was going to finish his meal, which he did, along with a dessert. You can guess how much he tipped, by the way. (I did make up for it; the waitress had earned a large tip due to her patience with his assholery.)
He didn't speak to me the entire ride back--which was just as well, because by that point, he had nothing to say that I cared to hear. He dropped me at my car, and when I apologized again (more out of blind courtesy than any real remorse), he shrugged and drove off. I had to call my parents to come get me; my headache had arrived at the point of visual disturbances. I should note that he left me there alone, knowing I was sick and vulnerable, and this campus had a problem with violent crime at the time.
It didn't end there, though. Did you think it would? No, there's a cherry on the top of this sundae...
Monday, I went to classes as usual. Nice Guy still wasn't speaking to me. Another mutual friend came up to me and started in on me for being so shabby to Nice Guy! I asked him what he was even talking about. It turns out, Nice Guy told everyone, including people who didn't ask, that I acted like "a total stuck-up bitch" the entire date. He said I demanded ice cream, and refused to do anything he wanted to do. I didn't talk much and ignored him half the time, he said. I had anorexia and kept trying to make myself throw up...
I explained what happened, and Mutual told me Nice Guy had left a lot out when he told "his side". I guess I'm glad Nice Guy didn't get handsy or anything like that, but passive-aggressiveness and subsequent slander are pretty bad, too. Sad thing is, Nice Guy continued to believe he was, in fact, "nice"; and to top it off, after the final exam for the class we had together, he stopped by to let me know I had "missed out" by "alienating" him with my "bitchiness", because "with your attitude and issues, you'll never get a man."
just...doesn't cut it in this case.
