I recently went on a date with, what most would consider, a “nice guy.” He had been trying to take me out for a while, and after weeks of innocent flirting, I finally agreed to go out with him.

He was sweet; one of those guys that always tucked his shirt in. The type my mother would just love. The conversation was good and I didn’t immediately feel like I needed to impress him, and I could eat my greasy pizza with no shame.

After the date, my roommate wanted to know all the juicy details. I responded with a quick “it was nice.” Was that all I really had to say?

I had just left, what most would consider, a perfect first date, so why wasn’t I impressed? I felt the harsh reality hit: I have a bad habit of dating jerks.

It’s not that I purposely go looking for jerks, but rather, I fail to notice the signs. I get excited by all the mystery and create an ideal version of the person I’m dating and never really see them for who they really are. That is, until I find text messages from an ex-girlfriend or end up waiting for hours by the phone.

Even though I know I can’t stand another jerk in my contacts list, I realized dating a nice guy takes some getting used to.

And that’s the sad part. I have allowed myself to be used and mistreated for so long. When I finally meet someone “nice,” I find him too safe and boring.

I have repeatedly turned down nice guys on the simple fact that there was “no chemistry,” and convinced myself that it would never work. That’s just stupid. If a guy is sweet, calls you back, and picks you up on time, that doesn’t mean he’s boring. It means he’s a gentleman.

I’m done with all the emotional ups and downs. Who cares if you’re a drummer, look like Ryan Gosling, and have the sexual prowess of a young Marlon Brando. I know all about your kind, and I refuse to be apart of it anymore. Even if dating a jerk makes for good conversations over coffee.

I’ve dated enough jerks to know this by now.