"You know the saying, 'Nice guys finish last'? Well, that's bullshit. I'll tell you who finishes last: passive guys."

Ken's shoulders sagged. His eyes drifted to the suds in his beer. "I don't get it. How's that different?"

I straightened up in my chair and cleared my throat. "Okay, here's what I mean: a guy can be either passive or assertive, but still be a nice guy. You can be a good-hearted, sensitive, honorable guy and still assert yourself."

"How about this," Ken started. "I see a girl in a club and I go up to her and start dancing with her. Except that it's not just friendly dancing; I get all up on her, you know, like how players do it. Rubbing myself against her and stuff."

I laughed. "Heh heh. You're confusing assertiveness with aggressiveness, man. They're not the same thing."

"So what do you mean by assertiveness than?"

I took a deep breath and sighed. "In that same example, assertiveness would be talking to the girl first."

Ken scratched his head. "But every time I do that, I get nowhere. Then I see these players move in and they always get the girl."

I chuckled. "Oh man, you've been watching too many movies."

"What? That's what players do! They're all assholes who only care about the conquest, while nice guys don't get anywhere because they'd rather get to know a girl."

I shook my head and finished my beer. "We need another round." I made eye contact with the waitress and pointed at my empty mug. She nodded and walked to the bar.

"I hate players. I can't play this stupid game. I just can't."

"You know what your problem is?" I stared Ken right in the eye. He blinked. "You're so anti-player that you'll do whatever you can to be the opposite. Except that you're overcompensating and going too far in the other direction. You're being too passive."

The waitress came over with two fresh beers and removed the empty mugs. For a moment, we both took thirsty gulps in silence. Then I continued.

"You're a nice guy, Ken. But you're so anti-player that you're unwilling to make the first move on a girl now. You see a girl that you like and what do you do? You sit and wait for her to talk to you, because you don't want to seem like a player to her."

"But what the hell is wrong with that?" Ken asked.

"Because you're taking the definition of a player too far." I leaned forward in my seat. "So tell me, what exactly is a player? How would you define a player?"

I took another gulp as Ken scratched his head. He stared at a couple of guys at another table who were talking to and laughing with the waitress. "A player is a guy who is only after the conquest. He's only interested in screwing the girl and nothing else."

"Good," I nodded. "Then what's so player-like about simply talking to a girl?"

"Well…" Ken stared at his beer. "Okay, fine, so I get your point."

"Great!" I tossed back another gulp and smiled. "So if you like this girl, then you have to make the first move. Talk to her. Let her know you're interested. There's nothing wrong with that."

Ken slumped down to the table. His eyes drifted to the floor. "Man, why is this so hard?"

"What's so hard?"

"This. This whole game. I can't play it."

"Play what? Listen to yourself. I'm just talking about talking to this girl; not trying to lie to her to you can get into her panties."

Ken snickered. "Yea, I know…"

"Think of it this way: being passive means not doing a damn thing; being assertive means simply talking to her to get to know her better; being aggressive means ramming your dick down her throat after you ask for her number. What you have to be is assertive man, assertive."

Ken leaned back in his chair. "I know. You're right."

"Otherwise, what's going to happen? You'll never talk to her, she'll never know you like her, and you'll continue being single."

"I know, I know." Ken took a hearty gulp of beer and wiped his mouth. "But what I don't get is, why do I have to make the first move? I mean, isn't this the 21st century now? Can't girls also make the first move too?"

I grinned. "You know what's funny? That the whole Feminist movement has made some guys think that way. You're overcompensating and going too far in the opposite direction again. Feminism means giving a girl equal rights; it doesn't mean not talking to her."

"So what about the equal right of a girl talking to a guy first, huh? Why can't girls ask guys out now? Isn't that a double standard? I thought equal rights was about removing double standards."

I sat back in my chair and stared at my beer for a moment. Ken took another gulp. I scratched my chin. "Well, despite all that, I think a lot of people, not just girls, but guys too, are still traditional at heart. There's still an underlying sense of tradition there, at least for the girls that we know. They still want a guy to do chivalrous things. Like holding the door for them or asking them out on a date."

Ken shook his head. "So much for equal rights."

"I hear your frustration man, I really do," I nodded. "But life isn't so black and white. I'm no expert on Feminism, but I think it was more about equal rights in the eyes of the law. I don't think it applied so much to dating."

"But isn't that a contradiction?"

"They don't see it as a contradiction. They see it as… respectful. And traditional. Those old traditional roles still apply, despite how, in the strict ideal sense, it may seem contradictory."

We both tossed back a generous mouthful of beer and sat silently for a while. The waitress was still laughing with the table of guys.

"Dude, all I'm saying," I continued, "is that it's okay for you to make the first move and talk to this girl. In fact, she'd probably feel really flattered by it. She won't think you're a player for it. And she probably won't talk to you or ask you out if you don't act first."

Ken smiled. "I know. You're right man. You're totally right."

He held up his mug. I clinked my mug with his. "Cheers," we said together.

"I'm going to do it this Monday then," Ken added. He took another big gulp. "I'm going to do it."

I laughed. "You go player!"

Ken shot me a shocked look.

"Ha ha! I'm kidding! Drink your beer."

We both tossed back another round of beers.

. . .

Do you think that nice guys finish last?