“You know,” she said. “The guy who is always there, offering, inviting, always asking what we want to do, where we’d like to go…”

“Yea, that sounds terrible,” I said.

She made a face at me and stared into the firepit which was lit and bathing us in a warm glow.

“I’m not saying some girls are like that,” she said.

“Yea, I would figure that sounds like a normal guy,” I said.

“That’s the problem,” she said, “Normal isn’t attractive.”

“I knew it!” I replied. “You’re into psychopaths.” She laughed.

I went on…”That explains all your tattoos.”

“You said you love my tattoos,” she pouted.

“I do,” I said. “Except that one.” She looked at where I had pointed with concern. “Where? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just, too….normal.” I said and couldn’t hide my amusement. I was having trouble getting back to my usual analytical self.

She slapped me on the arm, though, which helped me focus. She continued…

“I want someone who isn’t so normal, but more interesting,” she said.

“Like, how?” I was back in research mode.

“Nice guys do things, and it’s all for you, instead of for themselves. I want them to have passions.”

“Nice guys have passions,” I pointed out.

“Yea,” she retorted. “Watching sports,” She paused, “And fantasy sports teams.” She paused again, “Oh, and sports bars.” She shuddered.

“I detect a sports theme,” I said. “Also, you’re an elitist.”

She looked at me offended, “So are you.”

I stopped a moment. “This is true…Wait, what do you mean by elitist?”

She ignored me. “I think most of us do want nice guys,” she said. “But underneath it, we want someone who has something going on. Something that takes them away from us because they’ve got to follow their heart sometimes.”

“But you’ve always said you want a guy to appreciate you,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied and then looked at me and said simply, almost apologetic, and soft and gentle and lovely: “We’re complicated.”