UGH. Dating. The equivalent of shopping at an overwhelmingly cluttered store like Forever 21 or the clearance rack at Target. You must sort through unlimited amounts of shit and most likely the top of the line items are long gone. There will be heaping piles of things you know you don’t need but kind of want, and things you try and justify even though you know come with regrets. Occasionally you find yourself in foreign isles, confused on your intentions and forgetting why you came to the store in the first place. You may find something that appears ideal on the surface but then you realize it’s overpriced or just doesn’t quite ‘fit’. After perusing for a while, you may become discouraged, so your eyes start wondering to the ‘returned’ and ‘defective’ items (like damaged alcoholics or codependent douchebags, for example) because in reality they are cheaper, abundant, and the return policy is accommodating at best. To summarize this detailed analogy, dating is exhausting. In fact, you are probably sick of listening to me bitch about it. Regardless, I feel impelled to expose the latest trend in the dating scene: enter the Dawn of the FuckBoy – An incredibly vulgar and emasculating term most likely coined by a female after receiving a slew of hilariously crude pick up lines on Tinder.
Now some of you may be thinking that this post is ”Defamation!!!” – Calm down. “Feminist ideals!!” – OH please. Comical satire combined with pure boredom in my own life with an added dash of derogatory flare? NAILED IT. So hold on people – we’re about to dive head first into the new age phenomenon that is a Fuckboy.
I must lament that there is a substantial difference between a player and your average FuckBoy. Although traits appear similar, Fuckboys are a totally different animal-not to be confused with the Charlie Sheen’s of the world. At least players wear their loose morals and fear of commitment on their sleeves. Fuckboys hide in cloaks of innocence and have a nonchalant aura of confidence around them. One might assume he is rocking a Fedora with a cig in his ear or taking an absurd number of selfies at the gym. But that is all too obvious. Fuckboys are more akin to a Scott Disick of sorts. But worse – the notoriously unimpressive Ronnie from Jersey Shore would be more comparable. However, appearance doesn’t define a Fuckboy. It’s actually the shitty actions coupled with the distasteful disregard for female feelings when a fuckboy is ripe and in his element. One can relate the nostalgic feeling after sleeping with a fuckboy to losing self control and eating way too many cookies in one sitting – Sick to your stomach, full of regrets and an undeniable urge to do it again soon.
Phrases like “Send me a pic, lol” , “are you 420 friendly? lol” , “All of my exes are psycho. Soooo crazy lol’ are all signs you may have encountered a fuckboy. General tendencies include Overuse of the winky face – 😉 – and a wide variety of wink-associated emojis and inquiring for nudes before the second date. He is probably rotating different colors of Vineyard Vines, sporting a mediocre man bun and basking in Acqua di Gio. Classic fuckboy uniform. If the first thing he asks on a date is if you’re on Snapchat or shares that he spends his time “Summering” in Nantucket or the Hamptons or how his friend Damien is DJing tonight and is totally going to SLAY Armin Van Burin’s set from Tomorrowland 2015 and you can totes bring your lady friends – RUN! Red fucking flags!
Despite the above warning signs, the real underlying issue is that a lot of girls continue to ad fuel to the fuckboy fire. You’re probably reading this remembering you totally responded to the resident fuckboy in your life’s “you up?” text at 2:15am last night. WHY. I won’t mention any names but this article was born from a fuckboy situation my friend recently survived. Basically she and this bro were going strong for a while (I’m talking sleepovers 3-4x a week, doing couplish shit) and out of literally NOWHERE, he drops her faster than I dropped my Intro to Economics class. His reasoning? He didn’t just say “you know, I don’t see this going anywhere, bye!” instead, he had to be a complete asshole and rip her apart, basically alluding to a long list of things she did that he didn’t like. Calling her out on little things from her outfits to her habits – any excuse to avoid the truth that he just isn’t that into her.
Dick move. Then out of nowhere-like Donald Trump’s campaign– her fuckboy resurfaces, ready to “hang” again. Oh heyyy where have you been playboy? Why did you bash my friend’s character and lead her on when really all you wanted was a hookup? Now all of the sudden it’s cuffing season (see previous post below) and you’re ready to confuse the living shit out of my friend once more? SHAME on you. But true to the standard fuckboy cycle – she didn’t hesitate once to run back into the arms of the guy who just hurt her. Which literally lights a green bulb inside of the fuckboys brain that he can treat her like shit and get away with it. SO it’s not all of his fault. Women aren’t always just victims to this breed and a lot of them somehow manage to live in this distorted reality that he’s going to stop being a POS. It’s important to distinguish the massive difference between leading someone on and being blunt that you are just looking for a casual fling. Fuckboys take residence right in the middle, leaving women blinded by heart-faced emoji’s and “feelings”. I’m not saying you should wife up every person you meet, quite the opposite really. It’s perfectly fine avoiding relationships – I’m a veteran so to speak. But don’t act like you’re interested in exclusively furthering your relationship with someone and then decide that it’s time to rotate your roster. I’m far from ideal and quite honestly I think I kind of suck, but at least I’m honest with my intentions.
I currently live in Pacific Beach, practically a fuckboy magnet. Luckily, growing up with an older brother has afforded me special survival skills like a sense of self respect and fuckboy repelant. Thanks to him, I have zero tolerance for any sort of BS. That’s why I have pretty much hopped off the dating circuit and have limited myself to engaging in mild flirtation when I’m out on the town. But between slowly -but surely- becoming a Belieber, Adele’s “Hello” on repeat, and my overall lack of time and effort, I’m feeling single AF. So a few weeks ago, I met this guy ‘J’ at a Thomas Jack concert in San Diego and he seemed like a cool cat. He recently asked me out and despite my negligence, my friends convinced me to go on the date with a code word scenario lined up in case I needed to abort. To my dismay, he turned out to be madly in love. With himself.
Let’s just say the date was predisposed for disaster the moment he told me to meet at his house for a “cocktail” before dinner. Mind you, this was our FIRST date. A little tip for all you bros out there on your first date: consider meeting at the restaurant, or picking someone up. Meeting at your house is just weird, especially when you live 35 minutes north of me (which is actually an hour and five minutes in the rain because Californian’s can’t drive in wet conditions). Regardless, he turned out to be the unofficial spokesperson for all fuckboys out there, literally only talking about his car, how rich he was, his car, how attractive him and his friends were, his car, and politics…all topics included in the fuckboy starter-pack.
Shall we dive into some examples? First, when I knocked on the door he yelled “it’s open”! Which is fine, but once I opened the door I couldn’t find him, which was awkward. So I began trolling around his massive house trying to find him when eventually I stumbled into his living room where there were about ten people. He didn’t introduce me to anyone that was at his house upon arrival, and the girls that were there were throwing SHADE at me for no reason-looking me up and down like I had just kicked a puppy. Ugh. Anyways, once we arrive at the restaurant in his SUPER KEWL soup’d up Porsche , this tool bait actually asked if they had 18 year aged Macallan. Bro – newsflash: It’s a sushi restaurant with Saki and beer and you just pulled a standard Fuckboy move of requesting an extremely expensive scotch at an unlikely venue. He then proceeds to order an absurd quantity of food because bro knows NO LIMITS and states “That’s just how I roll – get it? ROLL.” Fucking shoot me in the foot.
Since Mr. Moneybags insisted on driving his Porsche 911, I was surpised to see him slug an exorbitant amount of alcohol (I guess I’m not very tolerable sober?) Que: The booze induced unsolicited groping! YAY! He then started to stroke my thigh, smiling in a not charming but*Jack Nicolson from The Shining* sort of way, I go to brush him off and he caught a glimpse of my $14 Forever 21 watch. He goes “damn-cool watch what brand?” Surprised at his compliment, I slowly respond “oh it’s a….” and before I could even finish, this dick interrupts with the ever-so-classy line “I could get you way better”. HA! Like duh you could get me better, I’m broke and bought this for myself.
Simple cardinal rules on the first date:
-Don’t get too drunk. Especially don’t get so blitzed that you and your date are forced to walk home
-Don’t insult someone’s money situation. I could be a millionaire like Keanu Reeves and still ride the train.. plus my watch is sexy.
-At the bare minimum, ask at least one question about your date. Like what do I do for work? Or what do I do for fun? Or even what my favorite type of cheese is. I don’t care. Just one.
Needless to say, this guy bombed all rules above. I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s safe to diagnose “J” with category-5 Fuckboy!
Call me oldschool. Call me a skeptic. But dating has been the last thing on my to-do list, right under other lurking priorities like laundry and paying rent on time.
But in all reality – who am I to judge. Sometimes I think I may have been a fuckboy if I was a guy. Sounds kinda fun.
*This is a cautionary tale, results may vary*