Or at least I didn’t think I felt like talking. Because, when she reached out and touched my arm, the words came pouring out. “I live with my pare...ts. I work at the Hy Vee. When my shift is over I come home to my parents, to the same place I’ve lived for twenty years. The Hy Vee is the place I used to go get candy from when I was a little kid. Everything is the same as everything else. One day blends into the next. Nothing changes.”She put her hand on my knee. “You are changing. You’re on this. I hate being a nice guy. Maybe that's why I put up with Dick for so long.What's all this about nice guys? Girls have Nice Guy Radar. And they avoid us like the plague -- except when the Jerk they're dating acts like a jerk and they're looking for a shoulder to cry on. There's no worse torture than a girl sitting on your couch until two in the morning, looking all wrecked and vulnerable and beautiful, crying about how all men are jerks, asking you what she should do, maybe even saying to your. More

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