Word: Big-Hearted

   

big-hearted

[ big-hahr-tid ]

adjective

generous; kind.

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           Sally’s eyes narrowed to slits.

               “I don’t trust him.” She said.

               “Who?  Your new boyfriend?” Mary asked.

               “He’s not my boyfriend.  We’ve been on one date.”

               Mary looked over to her friends not-boyfriend.  The guy was talking with a few of Sally’s family members.  And they were loving him. 

               “Okay, fine.  Not your boyfriend.  So, what’s wrong with him?”

               “I just don’t trust him is all.”
               “Why not?  The guy’s like Ghandi, the Dhali Lama and Mr. Rogers all rolled into one, and then given a movie star makeover.  What’s not to like?”

               Sally turned to the other woman sharply.  “Are you kidding me?  What you just said is the problem.”

               “What, that he’s super nice?”

               “Exactly.  He’s the perfect gentleman.  Polite, well spoken, generous, and all that other good stuff.  But that’s the problem.  He’s too good.  He’s hiding something.  Nobody is that perfect.”

               Mary said nothing.  She simply let her eyes lose focus slightly as they passed over Sally. 

               “You’re being paranoid.”

               “No I’m not.  I bet he’s, like, a serial killer.  Or something.”

               “A serial killer?  Really?”

               “Okay, maybe not.  But still.  He’s just too nice to be real.  There has to be something sinister lurking in the background.  I know there is.”

               “And if there isn’t?”

               “Huh?”

               Mary sighed.  “Look, sometimes people are just nice.  There’s no reason for it, they just are.  There doesn’t always have to be some dark, ulterior motive to it.  He could just be a really great guy.”

               “Then why is he here?”

               “What?”

               “If he’s a genuinely good person, then why doesn’t he already have a girlfriend?  I mean, come on.  He’s not just nice, look at him.  It’s like he sprang up from a magazine.  There’s no way he wouldn’t have been scooped up long ago.”

               “Fair point.  Maybe you should ask him.”

               “I can’t just ask him that.  It’s rude.”

               “So is thinking he’s a murderer.”

               Sally could not really say anything about that.  But she still knew she was right.  Maybe she did not have the exact details yet, but she knew there was something.  Sure, their date had been amazing.  Best she had ever had.  And he did not try to immediately get into her pants like most guys did.  And her family seemed to love him.  But still.  There was something.  Some deep, dark secret his super kind surface hid.

               “He’s hiding something.” Sally insisted again.  “I just don’t know what yet.”

               “Uh huh.  Hey, I’ve got an idea.  If you think he’s that untrustworthy, then don’t go out with him anymore.  Just wash your hands of him and be done with it.”

               Sally mulled it over.  She had considered that, but then she would not be able to find out his secret.  And that would just drive her nuts. 

               “Maybe.” She said quietly.

               “And then after you do, I will totally take your place.” Mary said with a huge grin on her face.  “I mean, just because you think he’s hiding something terrible doesn’t mean we all do.  And guys like that are just too good to waste.”

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Not sure I like the ending for this one.  But I can't think of a better one right now, so oh well.  And no, I am nothing like the guy in this story.  I wish I was, but not even close.