The Steves of this world, in my personal experience, are generally difficult to deal with, hostile, condescending, or otherwise irritating rat bastards.
I am sure that if you happen to be a nice Steve you will forgive me on this vast overgeneralization.
Steves are the popular kids who hang out with the Marks and Toms. They perform impressively at football and other fine sports. They are the guys with very broad shoulders and a sweatshirt, wearing a filthy white baseball cap with PENN STATE blazoned across the front, and getting away with it in class. They have loud parties and spill beer off the balcony and into the stairwell, where it then reeks for a good ten days.
Steve, like Wesley Crusher, always seems to win. He is manipulative in his expedience (he would say "I just know how to get the job done"). He drives a hunter green Mountaineer and takes illegal right turns on red and almost runs me down on the corner every day. He has money. He has charm. He has his professors under his thumb and the girl of your dreams in the bucket seat next to him.
It should be noted that people who go by Stephen are not anywhere near as likely to be a Steve in this manner. Stephens are often quiet and bookish, and are generally pretty interesting. Not that I haven't known any bastards named Stephen, but I can think of far more nice Stephens than Steves. Sci-fi Steven comes to mind.
Anyway. For a closer analysis, let us look at a few key examples in the fine works of Gordon Korman.
In A Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag, a supporting character is named Steve "Cementhead" Semenski. Aside from the obvious last name associations (but how do you know that such a Dickensian name analysis applies to this character? WELL.), Steve is a Steve. Let me illustrate this Steve's character with a lovely series of quotes.
Extracurricular activities: varsity football, basketball, baseball, volleyball, track & field, water polo, wrestling (Who is this creep?)
"...Steve is on all the teams,but he never gets to play. He's just good enough to be the last guy who makes it before the cut. He plays substitute for every team we've got, but he never so much as breaks a sweat."
"That's even worse," said Raymond. "He gets a record that makes him look like an Olympic decathlon champion, and he doesn't even have to do anything to earn it. He's never going to get injured, he's never going to get kicked off a team for lousy play, and he's never going to neglect one sport for another, because he doesn't play anything. This guy must have been born with a serious horseshoe up his diaper! Now I know why I have no luck. They gave it all to Cementhead! How's Jardine supposed to compete with a guy like that?"
This Steve is a classic overachiever. He is popular, muscled, etc., and eventually has the girl of the two main characters' dreams hanging on his every word. How can you help but be put out by the very existence of someone whose life looks so perfect?
We can see further examples of Steveness in Don't Care High.
A barrage of gunfire signified that the people in the next apartment were watching the late show.
Cover me! I'm going in there! shouted the hero masterfully.
Oh no, Steve! came the voice of the leading lady. You'll never make it through the crossfire!
You can't play it safe all the time, baby!
Sure, Steve, that's easy for you to say. You've read ahead in the script. They're going to aim fifty thousand cannons at you, and you aren't even going to get a flesh wound. You won't have a hair out of place. What do you know?
Back on the late show, they were awarding Steve a medal.
"Way to go, Steve," Paul muttered as he drifted off to sleep.
The interesting thing in this particular book is that there are a series of shows heard through the wall, and a series of Steves as the heroes. And they are all so close in character as to be identical to each other. Steve is an action movie star. Steve executes a bunch of high-risk manuvers that would get anyone else killed twelve times. Steve gets the girl and escapes in the nick of time, after killing anyone who needs to be killed (aka "the villain and his sundry thugs") with a suitably macho phrase such as "you're toast", which is simultaneously an ironic reference to a victory the villain thought he had gained over Steve earlier in the movie, but which in fact has turned out to be part of his downfall.
Indeed. Way to go, Steve.
Incidentally, this has been a nodeshell rescue.