Being kind and being good are not the same thing

When I look back, one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to unlearn is that being kind and being good are not the same thing.

I was raised to be nice. I learned to listen, to give, to avoid conflict. I was polite. I didn’t raise my voice. I treated people with respect. And I thought that meant I was a good man.

But there’s a version of “nice” that hides something else underneath. And I’ve seen it up close, in myself, in men I’ve coached, in the women who come to me confused, heartbroken, and exhausted from dating men who seem “nice” but leave destruction in their wake.

The problem is that the “nice guy” doesn’t question himself.

His self-image depends on being the good one. So when there’s conflict, it can’t possibly be his fault. You’re just overreacting. Being sensitive. Misinterpreting his tone. Making too much out of a forgotten message or last-minute plan change. He’ll say, “But I didn’t mean it like that,” and believe it’s a full apology. He won’t reflect on the impact, only defend the intention.

One woman I worked with told me, “He brought me flowers, checked in daily, and told me I was everything he ever wanted. But every time I brought up something that hurt, I felt like I had to apologize for making him feel bad about it.”

That’s the hidden trap. With a man like that, you end up regulating his emotions while suppressing your own.

The nice guy listens just enough to seem present, but not enough to actually understand. He’ll remember that you like long walks but forget why you stopped trusting him. He’ll praise your softness but flinch at your strength. He wants your beauty, not your boundaries.

And when you speak truth, you’ll see the wound appear. It threatens the illusion he built around himself. And instead of rising into responsibility, he’ll fold into guilt, defensiveness, or subtle blame. You’ll hear: “I was just trying my best.” “I can’t do anything right with you.” “You’re always so critical.”

And suddenly, you’re the one doing the emotional labor. Again.

The most painful part is this: he often doesn’t know what he’s doing. He believes he’s doing enough simply by not being toxic. But being non-hurtful isn’t the same as being healing. Not yelling isn’t the same as being emotionally safe.

Telling you he cares IS NOT the same as showing up with consistency, clarity, and self-awareness.

Real kindness has strength. It has integrity. It holds discomfort. Including his own. It doesn’t fall apart when challenged.

The nice guy isn’t dangerous because he’s bad. He’s dangerous because he thinks he’s good, and refuses to look deeper.

And women get caught in it, thinking, maybe it’s me. Because he’s so caring. So sweet. So attentive at times. How could he be the problem?

But the truth is: if he cannot hold your truth, your pain, your boundaries, your voice, then it doesn’t matter how polite he is. He’s not ready.

It’s why I advise all my clients to practice boundaries, uncomfortable truth and honest challenge from the start.

To the woman reading this who’s confused why it hurts when he’s “not doing anything wrong,” trust the part of you that feels unseen. It’s not about how he frames it. It’s about how you feel in it. Drained. Doubting yourself. Explaining too much. Walking on eggshells in a garden full of compliments.

It’s a performance.

You need a man who owns his impact.

Who listens with the intention to change.

Who doesn’t melt when you speak the uncomfortable truth.

And is willing to speak his uncomfortable truth to you.