if this isn't nice i don't know what is

She has grown tired of boys who take her seriously, who kiss her on the neck and leave little bruises, who cling to her and promise never to let go. There is something fundamentally draining about it all. She has not found any more purpose or meaning or drive and is no less confused about life but somehow none of that matters anymore. She wants to enjoy herself, and she cancelled a social engagement to sit on the roof of her apartment and watch the moon rise. She never calls after dates anymore, and she is okay with that.

Her roommate wonders if he is a womanizer, even though he is mostly sincere and doesn't do it on purpose. But he talks to girls who look like they are lonely, because he doesn't want anyone to be lonely, and sometimes they tell him their secrets and tell him how glad they are they found him, how nice he is, how kind and attentive. And he says it's nothing and means it. Sometimes when the moment is right they will kiss, or make love, and they will fall asleep feeling safe with him there. In the morning they find a note where he says that he hopes to see them again soon. He seldom does.

The last girl he slept with cried at first when she realized he was not coming back, but after a night of heavy drinking with her best friend from high school, who was in town for the weekend, she woke up with the worst hangover she had ever known and no memory of the night before. With the morning came the realization that it is simply not worth it. She smiled when she went in to work the day after and for a while, at least, no longer found herself troubled by the world's problems. She asked out a boy she knew from her sociology class who seemed like he was nice, and bought new shoes for their first date.

Her best friend from high school does not talk about her troubles to anyone, and spends most of her time trying to help everyone. She does not think she is an exceptionally nice person, and tells everyone it is just what she assumes anyone would do. She fears that despite all she has done she has no true friendships, and that people keep her around because they are simply using her. She has always been there as a shoulder to cry on, or to hold back the hair of her best friend from high school, and then to help her stumble home and into bed. Even the drunken slurred "I love you" did not entirely quell those fears, and she slept on the couch and left at daybreak.

Her new best friend is a boy who worries that, despite all his efforts, he is not a person--that he doesn't feel what he is supposed to, or do what people do. He is very self-conscious, and can't stand people who are not self-aware, in part because he envies them. His analysis has caused him to terminate many relationships. He sometimes tries to explore human emotion on paper, in poetry or prose, but is never satisfied with the nuance, no matter how he tries.