Everyone does it, so I figure
“Why not play the game?”
Good guys have been good boyfriends
And I bet I’d do the same.
But women hold the monopoly
and men are the game.
Standards abundant of coolness and hot
Disqualify me from lofty desires.
Women. I just don’t get them,
or their mindset when we’re meeting.
But I love them nonetheless,
their strength of being, so enticing.
I don’t know who I am
If I’m to be defined on my own.
It is said that people are marked
By those with whom they mate.
You know, dating’s not my thing,
scarred by rejection for anything different,
but I’d thought I’d give another try
And find the one who’d stand at my side.
Some say no, others tell me to go
And more say “It’s not you, but me.”
This game is tougher than it looked,
with feelings and moments so fleeting.
This is all made much harder
In the face of guys with beauty or power.
I’m a living, breathing string of bad luck
that doesn’t seem to be improving.
I don’t understand. Nice guy or no?
Am I too nice, or is it overthinking?
What am I supposed to do?
Is there a rule book on how-to?
Is there a standard stressing how to be,
the ideal man for these ladies?
Oh, good grief, is it me!?
And yet, I was as gentle a man as I could.
Their constant passing me is disconcerting
and at times, slightly depressing.
When she says “I have baggage”,
what should I say? “And I have luggage?”
I’m lost for words with no reply
That won’t be our premature goodbye.
Everyone played this game, so I figured
My chances had to be good.
Now I’m sitting, changed and vetted
feeling broke and misunderstood.
I was like a new toy that nobody wanted,
New, not used, resold on e-bay.
F*** this. I’m out.
I’ll go at life alone.