I was in Byron Bay a few weekends ago for a friend’s wedding. And while I’m on the subject, another shout out to the beautiful Bride and Groom who not only did a stellar job of getting married in style but put on a fabulous mini fun fest for us guests.

The night before the nuptials extravaganza, my sister and I met some friends at a local pub. The group hang out kicked on for a few drinks before we said our goodbyes. Me and sis decided to stay on for a few more. We were deeply immersed in one of our signature talking vortexes when a guy approached us at our table: he asked us if we would mind looking after his stuff while he went to the bathroom. He was at the pub by himself, waiting for his brother who was driving up from down South. We took on our minder role and once he was out of earshot, did a quick situation assessment and agreed we’d ask him if he wanted to join us for a drink. He returned shortly after and asked us the same thing. Naturally, the answer was yes.

He was blonde, well dressed and hot.

What this guy revealed next, however, was bordering on unbelievable. A few minutes into our new friend hang there was a natural pause in the conversation – he took that opportunity to tell us that is was really nerve wracking approaching beautiful girls like us. He nailed the pick-up line. As our talk continued though, we realised he was being serious.

My immediate thought in response to the Boy Nerve Bombshell was ‘how the hell can it be difficult for you to approach girls?!’ But before I got to verbalise that one he answered it for me with his follow-up statement, which, loosely translated, was that girls can be really mean to boys sometimes. Our new friend had obviously been burnt once or twice approaching females, like, I’m almost certain, the vast majority of males have at one point or another in their lives at the heartless mercy of pretty girls.

Then the alarm bells started ringing. This guy was obviously a considered and well-thought-out product of the male species. How many other nice guys have been floating around not approaching us girls – I don’t mean me and my sister, I mean all of us girls – for fear of rejection when in reality we’d love it if they came up and introduced themselves.

This male minefield must be amended, one nice girl at a time.

It’s true though. Girls can be tough. I’ve had conversations with women who flat out say they won’t date Tradies. What’s that about? Firstly, you’re cutting yourself off from half the male population. That’s just bad math. Then, flip it and imagine this: you meet a guy you really like. You get to the career part of the People Reveal Process when he apologises and stops you – he just can’t be with a girl who works in an office job. It would be heartbreaking. But then again, you probably wouldn’t want to be with someone who judges the worth of a person based on how they earn their money, right?

On Friday night I was at a bar in the airport having a glass of wine while I waited for my flight that had been delayed. Once I’d sat down, I noticed the guy at the table in front of me. He looked interesting; nice looking; maybe a little bit rough. He had a tripod so I thought he might be a photographer.

Around thirty minutes later I was on the plane and settled into 24D when a guy leant down to get my attention: Bar Boy was sitting in 24E. We muddled through the initial standard Plane Stranger formalities then ended up talking for the length of the flight. He had a degree in Chemistry and the reason he looked a bit rough was because he was on the back end of a two week ski trip with eighty teenagers from the high school where he was a teacher. A year and a half ago he handed over the reigns of the graphic design business he was running with his brother and their ten staff to try something new. Before that he was living and working in South America and travelling the world. He’d escaped the fate of his fellow teachers who were currently on a twenty hour bus trip with the eighty teenagers because he had to make it back in time for a windsurfing competition the next morning.

My point is, when I first clocked this guy at the bar, I never would have guessed any of the things he went on to tell me about himself or his life. I wonder how people size me up before they know anything about who I actually am.

Maybe in your mind you see yourself ending up with a High Flyer or a Free Spirit. Whatever it may be, your Surfer might be in a suit the day you bump into him and your Banker might be in boardies because he loves the beach.

Girls, be nice to nice guys. You don’t know who somebody is until you give them a chance to tell you. Plus, nice guys make girls feel beautiful. And that always feels good.

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