Humans is powered by Vocal creators. You support Stormy Robertson by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Humans is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

You Were a Nice Guy

We all know of a "nice guy," we may even have one in our lives.

This isn't non-fiction. It is creative writing, if you think I'm talking about you, I'm probably not. But if you feel attacked, re-evaluate some of your choices. 

We hit it off right off the bat, with you pouring water all over my white t-shirt. It was hilarious and we all laughed, with you laughing the hardest. A few months later I saw you at the school dance and you took the time out of your night to explain to me why I deserved better than the guy I was dating. When we broke up, you were extremely happy for me. We had other friends, too, and we would always hang out. Sometimes there was a fight because I was paying more attention to them, but you were nice enough to go home instead of having an uncomfortable conversation about it. And how dare I not notice you going home, even though you didn’t say goodbye? Weren’t we friends? Did you not mean shit to me? Of course not, my bad. I will do better.

I started talking to the school’s “bad boy.” You were mad, but only because you didn’t want to see me getting hurt. After I promised you that nothing was going to happen between him and me, you told me that we could continue being friends. I was so grateful, thank you for your kindness. You told me that you liked me, but I didn’t feel the same way. I left you on delivered for two hours trying to think of a response that could preserve the friendship because even though I didn’t feel how you wanted me to I still felt something. You were sad, and I offered to leave you alone for a little while so as not to rub salt into the wounds. You were mad, how dare I try to leave again? Weren’t we friends? Did you not mean shit to me? Of course not, my bad. I will do better.

I dated that boy, and he hated you. He hated how we were always together and how you saw me every day. He wasn’t quiet about his hatred. You hated him, often citing different situations in which he was the sole culprit of every type of deviancy imaginable. You were my best friend so I knew you weren’t lying. I broke up with him, blaming it on a comment he had made earlier in the day. Thankfully, you didn’t go to school with me, so you didn’t have to see him following me around the halls and when he threw stuff at me.

A year later I caused a few more fights overreacting to you grabbing me. But you explained everything and it got resolved. Of course, you were always going to be touching me, we were best friends and that’s how best friends act. My other friends didn’t act like you did because they weren’t as good of friends as you. Thank you for caring about me so much.

I met a different boy, and he treated me better than the others had. He really acted as though he cared about me, and I felt safer around him. I finally felt like one of those people that actually deserved to be in love, and I was. I was happy. You and I had both been busy with finals so I hadn’t had time to tell you about him, but I was excited. With as close of friends as we were, I knew you’d be happy for me.

But you weren’t. You couldn’t forgive me for not telling you, and so you cut me off. I had thrown away three years because I was selfish. It was my fault, so I didn’t push it. I told you I’d always be there if you needed anything, and hoped that you would. A few months later, you asked one of my friends if that guy and I were still dating. I thought it was weird, but didn’t think much of it after she told me. Then that night, you invited all of our other friends and me over for a bonfire. I was late because I was out adventuring with friends beforehand.

That night at the bonfire, you know what happened. I know what happened. That night showed me who you really are, that you aren’t the person I built in my mind. You weren’t my best friend. I realized right then that I was only a body to you, just a goal to achieve. You couldn’t get what you wanted, and hadn’t, so you tried a different approach. I had a boyfriend and you were supposed to be my best friend but in that moment I was nothing but a girl that had passed out in your backyard, completely vulnerable and unable to protest.

You poured water on my shirt because it was white, and water would’ve made it see through.

You told me my boyfriend wasn’t good enough for me because you thought you were.

You were mad about me hanging out with other people because you believed you were the only one that deserved my attention.

You lied about the “bad boy” because if you couldn’t have me, no one could.

You disrespected my personal space because you thought you deserved whatever you wanted.

You cut me off because he “won” and you didn’t.

You took advantage of me because I was always just something for you to “achieve.”

You never were a nice guy, you were just good at playing a role. So congrats! Here’s your standing ovation—you convinced me and everyone else watching your performance as well. But don’t forget that someday the curtain will fall for the last time and you won’t be able to hide behind that role anymore; so I hope you find a more permanent one. I hope you learn how to love and expect payment in return. I hope you love fully. I hope you learn how to be the person you were pretending to be. And I hope it has absolutely nothing to do with me.

Now Reading
You Were a Nice Guy
Read Next
Obsession or Love?