Some of the comments on my last post about a “caring” Twitter account were difficult for me to read. I hate being thought of as a “nice guy.”
“You’re a good egg!” someone wrote. “Such a humanitarian!”
Ugh. Are you trying to ruin my love life?  All the hot male characters on “All My Children” are the “bad boys” Ladies, be honest with me — would your rather have a raucous one night love-fest with Mister Rogers or Roger Federer?
I needed help with my image. Damage Control. Luckily, my friend Lisa works at a large PR firm in New York and we spent the day brainstorming in her Madison Avenue office overlooking 23rd Street.
“In today’s media environment, it’s all about appearance and branding.” she said. “Most of us have several levels, but audiences can only focus on one dimension at a time. There are thousands of informational points vying for attention in today’s multimedia world, and each broadcaster only gets enough time to send out a strong single throughline to the public arena through words, visuals, and actions.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You need to ask yourself, “Who is Neilochka?” You present yourself as a goody-two shoes and then you complain about never getting laid. The problem is not YOU. You have more than one dimension. The problem is that you project yourself in a singular fashion, like an image on a movie screen. And that image is goody two shoes.”
“But I’m not really a goody two shoes.”
“Exactly! That is why I can help you do, as a professional. I can help you bring forth another facet of your personality, filtering out the static information you don’t want, changing how you are perceived by your readers and followers.”
“I don’t want to lie or create a false impression just to change my image.”
“Of course not. But I am sure that you aren’t always nice. Can you think of a situation recently where you were NOT NICE or a goody two shoes?”
“Well, uh, yeah. I wasn’t that nice to my mother this morning.”
“That’s good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me about it.”
“I woke up this morning and my mother was in the kitchen. I sleep in the living room, so I was easily awaken. She had some lame-o excuse for waking me up.
“I’m sorry, Neil. But I wanted to make you a cheese omelet. I know this is your favorite.”
I scratched my balls and sat at the kitchen table, unshaven. She placed the cheese omelet in front of me, along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. I took a bite of the omelet, and I spit it out.
“What the f**k is this?” I screamed. “Do you call this a cheese omelet?”
“What’s the matter with it?”
“You used Swiss cheese! You know I like Munster Cheese in my cheese omelet!”
“They didn’t have any Munster cheese in the supermarket. A car smashed into the side of the store yesterday so they were only open half a day.”
“I don’t care! Did you really expect me to eat THIS?”
I tossed the plate like a frisbee, smashing it against the wall, the cheese omelet sticking to the wall like putty.
“I’m not gonna eat this crap! What kind of mother are you?! I am so disappointed in you!”
I threw the glass of orange juice against the wall, just for dramatic effect, then stormed out, leaving my mother in tears.”
“That is perfect!” said Lisa, my PR friend. “You must write a post about this. You are such a BAD boy in that story! The girls are gonna be getting wet just thinking about you!”
“Really?” I cried, enthusiastically. “Wow, that is terrific. No more Mr. Goody Two Shoes for me! And then, at the end of the post, I can tell them that — starting today — I’m going to start writing once a week for a really nice group blog about my attempts to go “green” to help save the planet!”
“Uh, no, bad boy. Don’t write about that.”
(more tomorrow)
I think you’re mean. And a deviant. And potentially a sex addict.
And that is precisely why I like you.
*wink*
Neil, the trick is not to be a dick but to not be a pushover. Stand up for yourself at all times, stand up for what you believe in, and stand up for those people who need it.
The women will flock to you.
You bastard!
I’m with you on the Swiss Cheese. Too bad I don’t believe you threw the plate or yelled at your mom. It’s hard work being an asshole, ask Tom Leykis. And that treat her like shit theory only works with dumb broads.
Mr. K, I’m not going to be able to see you as a bad boy when I know that you sleep on your mom’s couch. That’s bad boy only if you’re 16, a high school drop out and small time pot dealer. Or better, worse.
To be a bad boy you have to break hearts and steal things… these aren’t characteristics of a gentleman who proposed we all send each other supportive tweet-hugs in our time of need. : ) I’m just sayin’.
Neil, I just turned 36. I’m still hot. Girls my age are interested in Nice Guys who are hot in BED. Go sleep around and get back to me.
true bad boys are never mean to their moms 🙂
Ooh, you had me at “Mister Rogers.” But seriously, there’s nothing wrong with being a good egg. Like someone said, just be your own man and not a pushover.
You are such a bad ass!
I’m so turned on right now.
No. A gorgeous supermodel cooks you a cheese omlet after a night of passionate love, you eat it, and disappear without leaving your phone number. That’s how it’s done, Neil. Being nasty to your mother just makes you…well, an asshole. I think you need better representation. Remember, a Madison Avenue firm south of 41st isn’t really a Madison Avenue firm.
my oldest daughter was really into bad boys when she was in high school, it’s something most women grow out of.
you were an asshole to me recently when you sent me an invite to stumbleupon, a group invite, because you don’t care about me enough to send me something just for me, to make me feel like someone special. see, i know you’re an asshole and any thoughts about me sending you a pick of my ample bra or sleeping with you for one amazing night of sex, well, they’re all gone.
I think you need to hire headbang8 as your new adviser.
And don’t forget to tell us how you think supermodels are too skinny and you like a full-bodied woman who is a minx in bed.
That’ll work too.
I like both sides of you- yr naughty and nice and it works. I would be friends with you in real life- I am sure of it.
Baby, you know we like our men complicated. Mr. Rogers, Kevin Federer (hell, even a little Genghis Khan); the more facets the better. That way, after a night of incredibly hot sex, we can wake up the next morning and say, “Who the hell did I sleep with last night?”
So keep rockin’ the angles (except maybe leave out the part about sleeping in your mom’s living room), Neil!
Sorry – meant Kevin Federline. The image of Neil scratching his balls kinda threw me there for a second. I’m better now. 🙂
Oh yeah baby. You are on MEAN cat.
Meeean. Even the toughest of the tough run the other way when you come down a dark alley.
One look, and women wilt by your sheer sexual power.
Even large construction workers take a step back when you walk in the room.
You’re a baaaaad baaad boy.
😉
You’re a mean one,
Mr. Neilochka!
Doesn’t have the same ring, does it?
Roger Federer – I could take him or leave him.
I’m not sure if the bad boy thing quite works with the tree hugger thing.
It is much, much too late for your to get the image of a stud bad boy. Sorry. Maybe start a new blog? BAD ASS REBEL of the Month?
Or if you insist on staying COM, you are going to need to spin the nice guy thing and sell this point: Yes, I’m a good egg who has skillz.
Your new tagline: Nice Guys Are Good In Bed Because They Finish Last.
Deb, I need that line on a bumper sticker for my husband’s car. Except he’s way too nice to brag about his sexual prowess…but he does brag about his green initiatives…such an arrogant man…
Neil, if you’re going to be a bad ass, you don’t throw plates at your mother, you fling egg mucmuffins at McDonald’s and tell the Chinese porn seller to bugger off and get you a REAL woman.
While you were throwing your breakfast against the wall, did you add, “and another thing…from now on, we’re going to alternate our breakfast music because, frankly — and I don’t think I’m alone here — I’m really sick of this Lawrence Welk shit.”
Nice touch. : )
John — Sadly, my mother listens to NPR. She is also the only person I know who has never driven, but listens to “Car Talk” on the weekend. But she mainly watches the View on Tivo. She is obsessed with that dumb show.
Bad boys are highly overrated and goody two shoes are boring. Somehow you have to come in somewhere in the middle.
One of the category tags on my blog is “Have I mentioned I obsess much?”
You can totally borrow it.
By the way, speaking of images, thanks for the one of Mr. Rogers. *shudders*
Being a humanitarian is up there with having a great sense of humor. Totally beats out the bad boy!
If you want a really crazy, insecure girl for a one night stand, (and that could be all that men ever want) move to the bad boy thing. If you want to have a great relationship with an amazing, intelligent self-possessed woman, I’d stick with your funny, nice guy self.
Churlita — and which one are you again?
I agree w/ V-Grrrl–go on a rampage at McD’s and maybe buy some porn while you’re there.
Wear a holster like Adam Ant. Drink a little, but don’t smoke. Keep one foot in bad boy persona, and one foot in goody two shoes persona – keeps ’em guessing. Oh, and don’t be too easy.
“Car Talk” is great.
Hi Neil, this is off topic, but, are you ever coming back to L.A.?
I hate to tell you, but acting up like that with your mom may end up getting you spanked. And not by a hot Maxim bikini model.
Neil, you’re crazy.
The Internet was invented so that Mister Rogers could get laid.
“put on a little makeup makeup..make sure they get your good side…”
please tell me I wasn’t the only one humming Adam Ant after reading this post!
did you know that fred rogers built his own indoor lap pool and swam naked every day?
i dig subversive. and he wasn’t a bad looking guy. i’d do him.
I’m the one who’s a sucker for a funny, nice guy.
Churlita — I thought you were a whole lot smarter than that.
You bad boy! You can still look like Adam Ant, throw around cheese omelettes and also save the world…
Right?
A gay friend of mine told me once that his ideal man would be a young Mister Rogers, but only if that urban legend about him being a sniper in ‘Nam was true (and, according to the legend, his arms were also covered with full-sleeve Marine Corp tattoos).
No Swiss cheese for you? Not even a cave-aged Gruyere? There’s nothing women find more attractive than a man who knows his cheeses. Or has enormous genitalia.
Or so I’ve heard.
YOU scratched your balls? Heh.