Mr. Nice Guy

The Mr. Nice Guys of this world wish they could be assholes, myself included.  They want nothing more than to be smooth talkers with a heart of courage like heroes of the silver screen Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, and even that fuck of a stick Michael Cera.  But the bottom line is Cera has seen more fuzzy clam than Spongebob Fucking Squarepants.  It's harder these days to gauge a woman's interest seeing as how the glove has slipped to the other hand.
No longer are woman weak and powerless, they have discovered the Pandora's Box that lies between their legs and are quick to use it.  Men have become the submissive.
Distinguishing who wears the pants is key.
You see, the man holding the woman's purse while she's trying on a dress, he's the bitch.
The man checking out the register girls ass while his girlfriend is standing next to him basking her retina into the latest line of celebrity endorsed fashion-ware, is still the bitch.  He just doesn't know it yet.

Now that modern social precedence has been explained, back to the topic at hand.

On the sidelines always awaits for Mr. Nice Guy the friend zone, a rather unique play.  Majority of those stuck on this bench await that single solitary moment when they can get into the game and go for a touchdown.  But need I remind you? This is Mr. Nice Guy.  He's going to miss every pass he gets, await another possible yard, fumble, and wind up back at the zero yard line.  There is no winning here, and if there is it's after years and years and years of the "golden girl" fucking 30 other guys and realizing none of them could understand her quite like you.
By this time it's too late, she's a sagging old whore who no one wants to fuck.  Meanwhile the nice guy friend has probably shackled down with the first girl he gave the ole' 2 pump finish too.  Settled down at age 30, tired of waiting for the one he still contemplates how it would be if he got the girl.
But as Olive Penderghast (Easy A) says, " John Hughes did not direct my life."  For you social retards who have no idea who John Hughes is, pick up a book and smash yourself in the face with it very hard.  
It's a real rarity to have that Hollywood ending in real life.  
So if you feel the reigns of opportunity pulling at your heart, ride the mother fucker into the sunset and get what you want.  Stop being the cliche' Mr. Nice Guy and become a risk taker.  Even if you fail, at least you can rot away the rest of this life with the satisfaction of knowing you tried.  
Failure is my best friend,  have you met him? Cause I'm sure in some way he's yours too.  
But the only difference is I'm still living life, moving forward.  No where near the shadows.