I think of life itself now as a wonderful play that I’ve written for myself, and so my purpose is to have the utmost fun playing my part~ Shirley Maclaine
I didn’t want to write this story I had to.
Not only for myself but for all the men out there suffering from the cultural shift that has occurred over the last few decades.
For all of the men who have ever been dumped, cheated on, or lied to by their partners.
This is a story about why I had to kill the nice guy.
I have a confession to make. I am a recovering nice guy.
Much like an addict admits they are powerless over their addictions, I am acknowledging that when it comes to women, I am helpless.
I always felt I was that guy who had his life together.
I was in great shape, had an amazing career, a beautiful wife, a house, a healthy daughter, and a dog.
If you had ever asked me how my marriage was going, I would have replied, “happy wife, happy life,” or “ I’m doing what most new dads do.” But deep down inside, that was far from the truth. I was miserable.
I made my ex-wife the center of my emotional needs and lost friends in my marriage.
I hid my emotions and repressed my needs in hopes that if I made her happy, everything would work out the way I wanted to.
I tried so hard not to be like my father, and in the end, I was him.
At work, I avoided confrontations, and worked excessively to appear busy but was unproductive and exhausted most days.
I lacked boundaries in every area I needed them most.
I tried to “nice guy” my way into everything and handed over my balls in hopes of a lifetime full of pussy, respect, and love — Traver Boehm