Ladies, be mean to me.
I know it may seem counter-intuitive but trust me, ultimately, it's for the best.
I say this not out of any sort of wish-fulfillment sado-masochistic fantasy, though that would be nice and convenient given the history of my love life and its abuse.
Rather, I say this for clarity's sake. I'm like a puppy; kick me and I'll run away sadly, but pet me and I'll try to follow you home.
In high school, I longed after the same girl for years, the nicest girl in my grade -- though that wasn't much of a contest, at the school I went to. As I've mentioned before, in high school I was misanthropic, slouched over, and anti-social bordering on hostile, after the Pavlovian training of middle school instilled into me that none of these people were my friends.
This girl just had a "serial niceness" to her. None of these things could keep her away from talking to me, from seeming to show some genuine interest beyond the simple "How's the freak?" passes I'd get from my classmates. She'd even sometimes invite me to things on the weekends. No one did that. And in me, beyond all that self-loathing, it touched that part of me, that part of every errant high schooler, that still holds out and believes they can be loved, that morsel of self-respect, preserved.