Nice Guys Finish Best

Who was it that said,

“Nice guys finished last?”

Was it a philosopher or a doctor

who made that claim off years of study

and research?

Or was it some douche that

had nothing better to do than sit around

and not make a thing of himself

and spend so much time in regret that

he would make one claim make his life have meaning?

Who turned life into a race?

I haven’t lived a fast life, and here’s why.

I wasn’t the bad boy in high school who

got in trouble with the police, but

I also wasn’t the nerd who didn’t go out

and studied every minute of the day.

I was just a guy who did what felt right

whether it was studying for a test

or going out to spend time

with the people that made my life great.

I am not a millionaire like so many others

that have taken the fast route.

Some went down the path of drugs,

others the path of sports and entertainment,

and some just became thieves in the political or financial ring.

They all started getting what they wanted quick --

the money, cars, house, company.

But then came all the stuff that took up their time:

promotions, shoots, and meetings.

Twenty-two-hour days that go by so fast

it only feels like an eight-hour shift.

The price for being a millionaire.

I took the slow route --a job that may not make me rich but

will give me the time I need with my family.

I may not have the fancy cars or the big house but

there are some things I have that make me

better than any millionaire out there.

I have my privacy because nobody wants to hear

from someone who isn’t on the top of the mountain.

I have children whom I can recall their birthday, know their favorite color,

go to all of their soccer and baseball games, and go to their school plays.

People know the shape of my heart

when I have time to donate the little money I have

and spend time with the ones who lost their way

and spun off the track.

Unlike the millionaire who gives just for

“Good publicity,”

who throws money at the problems

thinking that’s all that’s needed to solve it.

I have a wife who also has a good job

and does her part by the kids.

She knows me and knows she’s my reason for living.

My muse, my love.

Unlike the millionaires wife.

She sits around and watches “The View”

or the food network, like she could cook anyway.

She is probably some teen out of high school that’s obviously

digging for gold and waiting for her husband to die.

When that happens, she won’t be there for him,

and that’s when he’ll realize his mistakes and cry.

When it’s my time, my family will rejoice,

and I will be thankful for all that I’ve experienced

because, unlike some, I may have finished last,

but that just means I had more time

before I reached that line.

Life may be a race, but that doesn’t mean the fastest ones win.

Remember the hare lost the race for a reason.

We only get one chance at life.

It’s a shame to go so fast that you don’t know

where you’ve been.