This weekend I have finally been able to put into words something that has been bothering me. I’ve been trying to find a way to describe why some men just don’t interest me and the best I’ve been able to come up with is the dreaded “too nice.” The thing is that it doesn’t capture what I’m really trying to say. I like nice. I definitely am not looking for mean. But now I have it.

I can’t handle earnest and sincere.

That still makes me sound like a horrible and evil person but here’s why. My brain thinks that it is in a 1940s screwball comedy. It is happy when the dialogue is fast and furious and full of witty banter. I need a man to engage my brain and make me laugh. If he doesn’t then my brain will wander off and go looking for entertainment elsewhere like making me giggle inappropriately or wondering if banging itself against the table repeatedly would be more fun.

Tonight I went out with a perfectly nice man. It was awful. There was nothing wrong with this guy except that he bored me to tears. The thing is that I knew it would be like this going into the date. I agreed because I don’t trust myself to judge these things totally and well, free food is free food. (If I’m going to admit to being evil I might as well go all the way.) Besides, he kept saying that he thought that I was wonderful so I figured that he was obviously smart! đŸ˜‰ (Again I admit my evil nature.)

So now I know the nature of the problem. I’m just holding out for Cary Grant and/or Jimmy Stewart!