“What are a couple of nice guys like us doing sitting in AA?”
On the surface, we were nice guys. We held doors, picked up tabs, said “no problem” when it absolutely was a problem. We told people, “it’s all good,” while in the back of our minds we were expecting appreciation, a thank you, attention — maybe even a little admiration. We weren’t just being kind; we were investing. And we expected a return.
Looking back, can we see how transactional our motives were? I do for you, you do for me. I help you out, you give me prestige. I fix it, you give me security. I act generous, you boost my self-esteem. It looked loving on the outside, but underneath was a quiet contract nobody else agreed to.
After a while, didn’t our self-willed motives become obvious to everyone else except us? When people didn’t respond how we pictured, the “nice guy” could turn sharp — resentful, demanding, cold. Our kindness had conditions. The generosity had fine print.
We replayed the scenes in our heads and found that nothing pairs with self-imposed disappointment quite like oblivion. Over time, we cut people out faster than we let them in. The circle shrank. We started deeming them “toxic.” Weren’t we blind to our own toxic behavior in the first place? The isolation grew, along with the fear of running into someone we resented. We avoided rooms, conversations, entire places — just to escape the tension we created for ourselves. Our world got smaller, not safer.
Where do I still have expectations for people to act as I wish — and how do I respond when they don’t?
