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@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

Right. Time to face up to an uncomfortable truth. I’m just too much of a nice guy in this world made for chancers and charlatans.

Too much of a nice guy — to the wrong people

Sometimes it’s nice to give. At other times, it can lead to resentment.

Nice — or charitable in any case — that is, to those who clearly don’t deserve such favour. What makes this worse is that I’ve known it for some time.

Idiocy

Back in February 2023 in Rewarding the reckless, I explained how over the years I’d become chief moneylender to a buddy, let’s call him Pablo — a work-hard, revel-harder builder — in my beloved Bogotá barrio of Santandercito. When Pablo first started asking for financial aid — in 2019, if I recall correctly — he was credit-worthy. At times he even paid me back earlier than originally agreed. So, understandably enough, I became more relaxed about giving him handouts.

However, this all changed in 2023. Indeed, a later story that year, Exacting revenge, gave an indication of how angered I’d become. A feeling of being used and abused.

Yet, some questionable quid pro quo deals with Pablo aside, I’ve allowed myself to be taken advantage of a few more times. Yes, it’s all completely my fault. Pablo doesn’t put a gun to my head or entrap me in mafia-esque offers I can’t refuse. (I can count myself lucky on this front — we’re talking about Colombia, after all.)

If I were to name a culprit other than me for my actions it would be Father Time, the great healer that he is and all. However, that’s a weak defence of my idiocy considering all the stress I’ve suffered over the last few years because of this money-lending, stress I’ve already addressed via this medium.

Cruel to be kind

At root, I surmise, is that there’s something I admire in Pablo. A father of at least five children of his own blood, he also took under his wing two troublesome stepchildren. I’ve seen this pair go from late adolescence to early adulthood. The kindest word I could use to describe them is leeches.

All this could be seen as a vicious cycle. Pablo is taken advantage of by certain people, his kith and kin essentially. Then he in turn takes advantage of others when the opportunity arises.

‘When does one go from being too much of a nice guy to being too much of a strongman, too obnoxious?’

I’ve told Pablo before that he should be tougher with his ungrateful stepchildren, as well as, at times, with some of his own adult children. Cruel to be kind and all that.

This is, however, a prime example of seeing the flaws in others whilst failing to see — or ignoring — shortcomings in ourselves. I need to be crueller with Pablo.

In any case, Pablo remains in my life. Heated arguments aside, or perhaps because of them, he almost seems like a Colombian brother to me. Family feuds can get ugly, can’t they?

So my being a nice guy to him is more excusable in that context.

Consenting to resentment

Where my nice-guy approach rankles even more is when it comes to courting.  Before I get into specifics, I must clarify that dating is something that I’ve never been too enthused about.

That admission aside, I had thought that my recent softly-softly, gentlemanly approach with a young lady in San José del Guaviare was the way to go. And, initially, it did seem to bear fruit.

However, in the space of just 24 hours, this object of my desire — best I see her as an object, lest I reopen barely healed emotional wounds — went from seemingly being open to my advances to putting up an impenetrable barrier to her heart and head. I was dumped before I’d allowed myself to be properly used and abused. Or before I’d been given the chance to discover this object’s dislikeable traits, of which she no doubt has many.

My error? Well, according to some local lads, I wasn’t forward enough with her. Too much of, yes, you guessed it, a nice guy. After nights out when she said she had to go home because her mother would be waiting for her, I respected her decision. Apparently I should have insisted she returned to my lodgings.

These loan and love episodes remind me of advice given to the physician Gabor Maté which he shares in his book When The Body Says No:
‘“If you face the choice between feeling guilt and resentment, choose the guilt every time.” … If a refusal saddles you with guilt, while consent leaves resentment in its wake, opt for the guilt. Resentment is soul suicide.’

In the case of Pablo, consenting to lend him money tends to leave me resentful. And with the one-time object of my desire, I resent not being more direct, more quickly.

The former scenario is, in theory, easier to rectify. As for the latter, it’s more difficult to know where the boundaries lie. When does one go from being too much of a nice guy to being too much of a strongman, too obnoxious? Moreover, what appeases Object A, may appal Object B. Thus, there may be no relevant lesson to be learned from an error in one escapade before embarking on another. Such is life.
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