"All the nurses at Tully keep asking about how 'that really nice guy' is doing." -mrw's doctor this morning.

"You are about the fucking nicest guy I know." -deli guy tim to mrw this morning

Thus is my curse. Throughout this fine land I'm known to one-and-all as "Mike, the Nice Guy." I've gotten used to such statements over the years. There certainly are worse things that could be said about one. It's rare, for instance, that somebody meets me and declares me unlikeable.

I just don't think that I'm really that nice. I often want people to meet my father. He's awfully nice. When I interned at his plant in college people constantly came up to me and asked if he was "really that nice." Yes, I assured them, it was no act.

Dad, though, is an absolute ogre when compared to his father. My grandfather is seriously the kindest, warmest person you will ever meet. At 87 years-old, he still drives the Amish family down the street (who he really doesn't know) to the grocery store several times a week. Any of my friends who he has met are instantaneously family members. He still asks about people that he met twenty years ago who I haven't spoken to in ages (one of you lurkers is often asked about).

The curse of being nice, though, is that you always have to be "on." Being momentarily cranky or wanting to be a bit reserved becomes a big deal to people. They're not used to it. They think something major is amiss. People literally don't know how to react. As a result, I'm very wary of not being chipper. Sure, I may sulk online a bit but rarely do I allow myself to do so in real life. Randomess is my outlet in that regard.

The other issue, of course, is that the ladies never like the nice guy. Don't tell me I'm wrong. I know I'm not...