how to tell a girl you Lust her

Nice Guy Syndrome: a folk psychology term describing an adult male who seeks intimacy but only finds cordial friendship and platonic love. The term originates from a platitude often heard by such men (e.g. "You're a really nice guy and all, but…"). The "nice guy" is typically a pleasant, intelligent male, lacking romantic success and usually has low or misguided romantic confidence. The man may be a very good listener, and is often articulate and expressive in his manner of speech. Such men are often frustrated by, if not indignant about, their romantic trouble.


     “Two pair,” Tim said, tossing his cards down on the dining room table.

     “King high straight,” Beth replied, flashing him her own cards.

     “Damn,” he said absently.

     “That’s five hands in a row,” Beth said as she stood and stretched. Tim could see the contours of her lithe figure as she reached skyward, straining to awaken the muscles that had sat long dormant as the hours passed in which Tim had effectively given her the contents of his wallet. He fought desperately with the urge to reach out and run his fingers across her taut stomach as it was revealed to him from under the too-short t-shirt by her raised shoulders. “And it looks like you’re out of money now.”

     “That about sums it up,” Tim said, trying to stifle a quiver in his voice as she brought her arms down and moved behind him. She placed her hand on the back of his neck with the fingers pointing up, and ran them through his buzzed hair, making him shiver involuntarily, which elicited a giggle from her.

     “You’re so damn cute sometimes I just can’t stand it,” she said.

     “Um, thanks?”

     “It’s a compliment, Tim. Don’t be naïve.”

      She smelled faintly of lilacs. The aroma radiated off her body as she leaned into him, her abdomen pressed into the back of his head, and continued to caress his hair. Normally Tim wouldn’t have been able to identify such an arcane aroma, but he knew what it was this time because that was the image on the bottle of shampoo that had recently taken up residence in his bathroom. Something else was in her scent too, something not artificial, and Tim found it was far more alluring than some pretty flower could ever be.

     “Damn it’s four in the morning; it only feels like midnight,” Beth said, looking at the wall clock.

     “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

     “Yeah, let me tell ya,” she said, “Two–player poker games on a Friday night. You sure know how to show a girl a great time.”

     You have no idea, he thought.

“Tim,” she said, he tone turning meek, “why did you let me stay with you?”
     
“I dunno…” Tim said, “You needed a place to stay. I couldn’t let my best friend drop out of college and go home simply because she had nowhere to live.”

     “Yeah, but I mean you’ve been doing so much more than just giving me a place to stay. After I lost everything in the fire, you gave me money to buy clothes, food, gas…”

     Don’t forget lilac shampoo.

     “You’ve let me crash here for almost a month now without expecting anything from me. You even gave me your bed while you’ve slept on the couch for the last four weeks for God’s sakes. You’ve given me more help in the last month than my own parents have given me in the last year. Why?”

     “I guess I just felt like I needed to help you.”

       I guess I just felt like I needed to hold you.

     “And you’ve been a perfect gentleman the entire time. You’ve never ‘accidentally’ walked in on me in the shower just happened to need something out of your room when I was changing clothes. You haven’t made a single snide remark about what we could do whenever I’ve bitched about being bored. You haven’t even tried to liquor me up since I’ve been here.”

     She continued to caress his scalp as she spoke, and with each movement, the
underside of her breasts would graze the back of his head or the tops of his ears, sending electric shocks throughout his body.

     “Hasn’t stopped you from liquoring yourself up,” Tim said. “Speaking of which…”He slid his chair back and stood up. Getting a drink served the dual purpose of calming his nerves and keeping her from inadvertently sending his hormones into a rage.

     “I swear,” she said, turning to him as he pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cabinet in the kitchen, “if I hadn’t found that stash of porn in your bottom dresser drawer I might start to think you were gay.”

     “Gee, thanks for that,” Tim said over his shoulder. He pulled two glasses from the cupboard and poured a couple of shots in each. He turned and walked back into the dining room, handing her one of the glasses, which she managed to down in three large gulps.

     “Oh come on, I’m just kidding. Besides I’ve probably watched ‘em more than you have lately, which reminds me – you need to get a detachable shower head.”

“Yeah, because I want to pay good money so that you can leave footprints on the wall in my shower.” She was wearing a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts, her usual sleep attire, and Tim’s eyes kept drifting from the bottom of his cup back to her soft thighs.
     
“Well, I’m gonna leave ‘em regardless; at least this way I don’t run up your water bill too. Besides, you don’t have any ‘good money ‘left. I’ll be using my poker winnings to pay for my new toy.”     
     
Tim sighed. “I guess we’re going to Target tomorrow then.”

     In her time since having basically moved in, Beth had also commandeered the thermostat and was keeping Tim’s apartment at a frigid sixty-four degrees. The air conditioner had kicked on again and upon the realization of the effects it was having on her physical anatomy, Tim found that his restraint was no match for both Beth’s bare legs and steadily hardening nipples.
     
“Tim, it’s okay – look before your neck snaps. Hell, I think the least I can do is not get offended when you check me out. I mean what am I gonna do, leave? Besides I know you’re not gonna do anything.”
     
I bet I could rip that shirt off with one hand.
     
“Yeah, sorry. I’m only human.”
     
“But you’re still the best human I’ve ever known.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for being so sweet.”
     
Take her in your hands and melt her like a popsicle.

“You’re welcome.”
     
“I think I’m gonna hit the sack. Need anything before I go?” she said as she stood and began walking toward the bedroom door.
     
“Yeah, actually,” he started. She turned back to him
     
“What?”
     
I love you. I want you. I need you. Say it!
     
“Just…wondering what time you wanna go to the store tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “Whenever you get up is fine. I guess considering the time, we’ll both end up sleeping in tomorrow.”
     
“Yeah, alright.”
     
“Goodnight, Tim,” she said, flashing him a smile as she closed the bedroom door.
     
“Goodnight, Tim,” he sighed.


Commentary: I like this story. This is basically the way I used to be around women. Though never to this extreme, I used to be pretty inept back in the dark ages. Anyway, I love the playful distance here. She’s basically throwing herself at him and he has so little self-confidence that he can’t even grasp the meaning. He wants her, she wants him, but he’s too paralyzed by his perceived flaws that he can’t make a move.

And God forbid that the girl just come out and say it. If there’s anything I’ve learned about women, she is ten times more likely to act like a near-psychotic tease than she is to just simply come out and say what she’s thinking. She expects the man to catch on to her hints, but men don’t catch hits. Men are stupid. Subtlety is not in our vocabulary.

I’d really like to play with a companion piece to this one that goes inside her head while this is going on. I think that would be just as funny, trying to listen to her agonize over his apparent thick-headedness. I might play with that later. Until then,

~Peace