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When I got home that night, I marched up to my mother’s room and ceremoniously announced that I’d never see that Nice Guy again.

He talked about how much he loved his family, his spacious one-bedroom apartment, his summer share in the Hamptons, and how he wanted kids one day — the typical first-date catnip that’s par for the course in New York City.

We think there’s something wrong with us because we aren’t attracted to people who seem to do everything right.

What The Naked Test forces me to do is put my desires first, accept them, and forget these presumed expectations.

And just like rock beats scissors, whether or not I want to strip down in front of you trumps niceness.

Hopefully, I’ll one day find a Nice Guy with whom I also want to pole vault into bed.

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