The Tricky Balance.

Really Nice Guy: He’s really nice. Too bad that really nice also means kind of boring. And kind of naïve.

I need a guy with a little bit of an edge. It’s only fun for a little while that he’ll do anything I want. I mean, seriously. Have an opinion. Have a preference. Stop staring at me with those puppy dog eyes, waiting for me to tell you what we’re going to do next. You’ve got to push back, at least a little. Maybe more than a little.

I invite him over to watch American Psycho. It’s one of my favorite movies. He doesn’t get it.
“When was this movie made?” He asks. “It looks like it was made in the 80’s.” Um, no. It’s set in the 80’s. That’s kind of an essential aspect of the movie. Wall Street excess in the 80’s? No? It’s only 10 minutes into the movie, and I’m already regretting watching it with him.

When Patrick Bateman beats up the hookers in his apartment – what exactly he does to them is never shown, but it’s obvious he’s abused them – Really Nice Guy looks at me, wide-eyed, and says “What did he do? What did he do to them?” Well, he did something bad. He’s a bad man. The bad man hurt the girls. But it’s okay, it’s just a movie. He’s not going to hurt you. At this point, I’m wondering if he is going to be able to handle the rest of the movie. It gets much worse.

After the movie, he tells me his favorite movie is A Christmas Story. Know why? Because it has a beginning, middle, and end. That’s your criteria for favorite movie? Really? Anything else? No…guess not.

Guess he probably doesn’t want to discuss the themes and interplay of conformity, sex, power, fantasy, and violence in American Psycho. Maybe because he didn’t pick up any of those things from the movie. He was more concerned about what the mean things the bad man was doing. And also, he doesn’t think about those types of things.

I could keep going out with him, if I wanted to. Because he’ll just do whatever I want. He’ll take me out to dinner. He’ll meet for drinks. He’ll take me to the zoo. He’ll take me to the movies. Any movie I want to see is fine with him. (Although he'd probably prefer one with a beginning, middle, and end.) He’ll come over and make out with me. Anything I suggest, he’ll do. He’s sweet and polite. He’s a good – if somewhat limited – conversationalist. He’s cute. I have a pretty good time when I’m with him. But I don’t really care if I see him again.

Here’s where the tricky balance comes in: With too much edge, and there’s nowhere to stand; without an edge, I can walk all over him.