Is There Such a Thing as Too Nice?
Stories from Sarah's Dating Archives + a Tomato Tart Tragedy
There’s one thing I’ve realized about myself throughout the years of unreciprocated crushes, high school boyfriends, and dating as an adult. I am nice. Maybe too nice. Not the kind of nice that will make a stranger smile after waving at them, but the kind of sickly sweet, over-the-top type. I used to think it was the Midwesterner in me, but no. It’s an almost self-indulgent kind of nice that takes acts of kindness to an embarrassing level. It makes me feel borderline exposed, but I’m sure some of you can relate. Or at least have a good laugh.
The Record
Our journey of embarrassing stories starts in the middle of high school. You might have had a significant other to go to Buffalo Wild Wings with on the weekends, and if you are lucky, you get to wear their jersey to a Friday night football game. You have some experience under your belt, and you feel more confident. This confidence does not, however, mean you are immune to the allure of an uninterested person who goes to a different school than you. The recipe for overthinking, waiting for the bare minimum, is a modern-day textbook version of the situationship who cannot commit. However, we were still young, and dating apps were not a thing. So, we must raise our tolerance level for my cringe stories. I’m sureeeeeee you have a few.
I went from listening to Walk the Moon, Florence & The Machine to obsessively listening to classic rock because of this boy. I was committed to learning all the songs, scoring through his Spotify playlists, and even listening to them at work to impress my boss. The saddest part about the impression this guy left is that I enjoy classic rock. My grandpa would be proud.
The story gets worse. I went to a thrift store and saw a record. Rule number one: don’t buy men or love interests ANYTHING unless they are interested in you and/or you are exclusively dating. So, I made the mistake of getting this stupid record. Let’s just say I was creeping so hard that I knew the neighborhood where this person lived, and I knew what his car looked like. For some reason, I thought I was being cute, but in retrospect… this was the weirdest shit ever. So, I wrote a quick note using lipstick, left the record behind the tire of his car, and bolted. I did send a shameless text later so the gift wouldn’t be run over. hahahaha. Why couldn’t I have just texted him, “Hey, I’m in your neighborhood.” But no. I decided that even though this person was not interested in me, I drove 30 minutes to drop off a record without saying a word to him. Example number one: how being chronically nice comes off as creepy.
The Birthday Party
The Birthday Party is a sad story, but the lesson learned is how overextending oneself for someone can go sour. Fast forward to college, and you would assume the brain has developed enough to understand when someone is not interested in you.
After a year or two of pining over someone from a BIBLE STUDY (hahahaha), I finally worked up the courage to ask this person to lunch. In the cafeteria hahaha. It went fine, but I was so nervous. I found out a week later that he started to date someone else in our bible study. I was so sad. So when the time rolled around for his birthday, one of our mutual friends wanted to plan a surprise birthday party for him. Why did I say yes is beyond me… I went way too hard and did a themed dinner party with homemade food, dessert, and decorations. I remember he and his girlfriend showed up at the dinner, and when it was time for goodbye hugs, I died inside from shame. Luckily, at that moment, I realized I was an idiot. A very nice idiot.
But he and the other person are happily married, and I learned a good lesson: do not plan a birthday party for someone who is NOT your partner or best friend.
The Philosopher
The philosophizing mountain man was a questionable crush, but it existed in my history nonetheless. The setting is my senior year of college spent in a small commune-like community in the Southern Oregon mountains. The most embarrassing fact is that I found this person attractive only after they talked to me about philosophy. Who knew that could change your perspective on someone? To like an emotionally unavailable person is a transformative experience. The rejection is refreshing for the soul. It serves as a reminder to value yourself and move on. Lol.
I look back at pictures from this time, and I can sense my eagerness to sit next to this person or have them in my discussion group. Luckily, this crush dissipated quickly, but not without leaving a good reminder that you should avoid someone who believes they are more intelligent than you. Lol.
The Tomato Tart
This newsletter features many embarrassing stories. The stories are lighthearted and funny in hindsight. I am sure I have not learned my lesson, and the niceties are symptoms of a chronic condition that will not go away overnight. The tomato tart story is one of the best (and saddest) examples of the type of person I am. I still show people I care and think about them. Even when I feel defeated and realize things are not going anywhere. Whether I buy someone a record at a thrift store and drop it off at their house or plan a surprise birthday party for my crush, the thought still counts, right? The verdict is still out on that one :P. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Give Your Ex a Tomato Tart Kind of Nice
The time is almost 9 a.m. My friend Maddie picks me up in her cute car. Maddie is another one of those overly kind (in the best way) types of people. She took off the day from work to help me out. I leave the house, close the front door, and walk to her car. We sit together for a while, and she listens to me talk, and I realize how many days have passed since I was outside. We make our way to an old school building turned into a cooperative space for many local businesses about eight minutes from where we parked, but with the weekday construction, it takes a bit longer. We go inside and walk towards one of the bakeries on the list. The list of places I thought you and I would go to together. So we look at their pastries and tarts, and I ask Maddie if buying you one would be in poor taste. Maddie is kind enough to say that buying one is not bad. I work up the courage to order a lemon tart and a beautiful puff pastry with an heirloom tomato and an egg on it to go. I enjoy the lemon tart with my coffee and wonder what the savory treat tastes like. Before this, you and I would have shared the two.
That day, my belongings sat in bags in the living room. Everything I acquired since I moved back to Philadelphia was packed up. But despite moving out, despite not hearing any of the words I wanted to hear, I bought that stupid tomato tart. I knocked on your office door, and since you were on a call, I handed it off without too much said between us. I shut the door. Part of me thought this random act of kindness would show you I still care. Instead, it left me feeling like there was no difference.
So I walked downstairs and left with Maddie to Goodwill to donate all my household belongings. But somehow, those things didn’t worry me, but giving you that little end-of-summer tomato garden snack was the hardest thing to give away. Because that meant it was over, and you no longer felt the same about me.
💜💜