Fuckboys. You love them, you hate them, but hey it's ok to admit it—they're the jerks you love to hate, but love to fuck even more.
And if there's anything that I realized over the years regarding my dating life, it's that I'm a attracting magnet for fuckboys and I have an intriguing fascination over them.
Smash and dash, hit it and quit it, you name it. Your relationship with him isn't going to go any further than outside the boundaries of the bedroom. Because he will say all these romantic things to butter you up, text you Good morning beautiful and treat you like his one and only babygirl but once he gets what he wants, it's adios for good.
So don't EVER catch feelings for one of them, because if you do, you will swing open the gates of hell to your fate. And if you're afraid you'll start falling for one of them, it's time to build up a emotional fort around your heart before he shoots bullets right into it.
But here's the convenience of fuckboys: You use them, they use you.
If you're trying to get over your ex by getting under someone else, some fuckboy is always willing to show up at your doorstep at a moment's notice.
You don't need to go on cheesy movie-and-dinner kind of dates with them.
You don't need to act all cute and pretty next to them because they honestly could care less.
All you need is a good amount of trust, a slight "beginner-level" friendship, and then some basic math of adding a bed, subtracting the clothes and dividing of the legs.
But what happens when the gender roles are reversed here and you find yourself acting like…a fuckgirl?
Allow me to explain.
Recently, I came upon this type of guy who my best friend and I would characterize as a "churchboy".
Goody two shoes, a nerdy personality with a STEM degree to accompany with it, my parent's quintessential son-in-law dreams. You get the picture.
There was nothing wrong with the way he treated me or acted around me, other than this random high five he asked for when we first met in person (he thought would be a great way to introduce himself). But he was a good guy, I swear. Maybe a little too good for my liking.
But man—talk about the case of meeting the right guy at the WRONG time.
Like any "good" guy, he was seeking the real deal. Looking for a serious relationship, someone he could take on dates and buy presents for. He and I had these compelling, thought-provoking conversations and we always talked about the future, perhaps our future together.
I mean, we're roughly the same age (technically he was two years older) but this dude was really looking for wifey material in me, and if you want me to be completely blunt—that's exactly what I hated about him.
But I led him on.
I led him on to believe that I also wanted a serious relationship with him when truthfully, I didn't, because I enjoyed my independence and the carefree nature of being "uncuffed" where I didn't have to be held down.
I lied to him because I didn't want to hurt his feelings or try to make him feel like he wasn't enough for me.
I also lied because he seemed like a guy I personally didn't want to lose either, and I figured maybe after I roamed around a bit longer, I would realize he was the kind of guy I should be with (instead of the all the fuckboys I messed around with) and we would live happily ever after.
So maybe that's why I constantly cancelled plans on him, with that usual "I'm so busy this weekend with finals coming up" excuse.
Or ignored his texts throughout the day, only to text him that I missed him while I walked a block from campus to my friend with benefit's apartment to do the nasty nasty.
All the fake promises I made, all the things I did/said to him—they resembled what every fuckboy had done to me in previous relationships.
I made him believe that he was the only guy I was seeing, that I was going to go out of my way to see him this weekend, that he looked really cute in that snapchat he just sent me…
But he deserved better than that type of treatment and he deserved a girl much better than me.
I’m not proud in any way to admit this, but all I was doing was leaving him out on my back burner hoping he would understand how much I enjoyed my rebellious stage and wait until I was ready to settle down.
Turns out, you can't eat your cake and have it too.
Eventually, he confronted me and we ended things on a pretty bad note. That whole I-Never-Want-To-Talk-To-You-Ever-Again situation which only makes you feel more and more guilty.
And as I looked into the mirror the night he gave me that ultimatum, I saw this image of a fuckgirl looking back at me. Because I always used to break down emotionally from the things fuckboys had done to me in the past but this time, I was doing the hurting and the game playing.
Fuckboys taught me to admit devotion and love even if I didn't really mean it.
Fuckboys taught me to hold up barriers around my heart and to avoid catching feelings.
They taught me to value my independence but at the same time, they transformed me into a fuckgirl.