No, that's not me earnestly telling you about myself... that's me sarcastically reiterating what I'm told day after day. I'm nice. I'm "nice" to work with. I'm a "nice" person. I have a "nice" sense of style. My humor is "nice". My writing is "nice". I'm "nice" to be around.
Blechh. That's about as interesting as a bowl of warm, unflavored gelatin.
I should be flattered, I suppose. I mean, at least the majority of people aren't calling me a Soul-Shredding She-Devil. (Wouldn't that be a cool blog name? Perhaps the title of a poem or short story? But I digress...)
There's just something about "nice" that's not... well... nice.
I think the problem is that the word "nice" doesn't intrinsically say anything. It's not exactly descriptive, is it?
Can you imagine how deflated your ego would be if, after what you considered a passionate lovemaking session, your partner smiled condescendingly and made the comment, "Oh. That was so... nice." Yeah. That would feel awesome.
On the other hand, I've been called worse. Much worse. And it felt crappy.
At those times, I would have given anything to hear, "You're nice," rather than some of the names that were hurled my way. (Incidentally, I'm too nice to repeat them here... just use your imagination and you'll probably come up with one or two.)
I suppose my real problem is that I don't believe I'm "nice" at all.
Don't get me wrong--I'm not evil. I'm not particularly nasty. I don't attack small animals for pleasure. But I'm not "nice". Certainly, I'm pleasant... I'm friendly... I'm understanding. Those are traits I've honed after living and working with humans (as opposed to aliens or fauna) for over 35 years.
At the same time, though, I'm extremely self-centered. I'm passive-aggressive. I'm sometimes even rude. Those monikers don't exactly shout "nice", do they?
Perhaps I unintentionally wear a "nice" masque? Or maybe people are just being nice when they tell me I'm nice, but they're really thinking, "My goodness--she's not nice at all!"