Lessons a fuck boy taught me, and maybe you too.
Forgive me. It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I missed you. Hope you missed me. I pulled back from some commitments in my life so I had more time to write. I was teaching nearly every night and this sucked my creative soul dry because she loves to come to life from about 4pm - 9. This is her witching hour, her prime time.
This is mostly a creative lyrical piece. I don’t intend to throw shade at people who have come and gone from my life, but as a writer, anything is fair game right? everything is inspiration for a story (and your gals been thirsty for a while), so as soon as I created more space, the words started churning through me.
So let me tell you a little story of how I learnt one of the most valuable lessons in my dating career from a fuck boy. Also known as fuck boi, fucc boi or even soft boi (a fuck boy disguised as a nice guy).
If you don’t know the definition of a fuck boy/girl - think in terms of the bad guy/girl, player, only they are a little more evolved and cunning. When reading up on these types, they could easily fall under Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but also anxious-avoidant attachment style. Which let’s be honest, is a big chunk of our dating pool population. Myself included (anxious-avoidant over here).
But not every fuck boy/girl is a narcissist and not every anxious-avoidant attached is a fuck boy/girl who uses their fuckery magic towards others.
When reading up on these guys, I almost felt sorry for them. I almost pitied them. I almost saw how their insecurities and past pains have turned them into these fuckery beasts. If it wasn’t for some truth-speaking blogs and articles I would have stayed there feeling sorry for these types, but coming across one article, someone wrote “These people are the scum on the Earth, self-absorbed monsters with no conscience and no soul” savage yet on some level, I felt these words to be true.
If you ask me, my definition and experience of a fuck boy would be this - a self-absorbed, sneaky, snake oil salesman who takes no responsibility or accountability for their actions. As cunning as they are smooth, they believe they are God’s gift to women and can only muster up surface-level connections with multiple people to either stroke their inflated ego or to get their dick wet, with zero interest in how their behaviour affect others. They have a rinse and repeat nature to them. Master manipulators, mild gaslighters. Also, annoying AF and cockroach vibes when you see through their fuckery facade.
If you are fortunate enough to have yet to cross paths with these people, then I salute you. You have remained unscathed by the toxic and manipulative ways these beasts can weasel their way into your life. Charming, witty, and most of the time incredibly gorgeous, they possess a certain status of money or power and if they have neither looks nor money, they at least come with some intoxicating dick or pussy energy.
I had heard the term fuck boy before, but I never really needed to know more. These types never came into proximity to me. I mean sure, looking back, I see that some past lovers could loosely fall into this category. I had male friends who could fit the bill. But I’d never encountered one like this particular fuck boy, or at least allowed them to get this close to me. He was a Marlon Brando type so for storytelling sake, let’s call him Brando.
Brando fell into the extremely good-looking category, he wasn’t rich or successful. And while he did have good dick energy, if I’m being totally honest, he didn’t know how to use it to his full advantage. He learnt most of his tricks from porn which is misleading when it comes to the female anatomy and how women enjoy receiving unforgettable pleasure. Instead, he relied heavily on his charm, his looks and his falsely confident “dick energy”.
Now this is the part I don’t like to admit. I knew from the start what I was getting into. But on some level, I was so innately curious about this creature that I almost wanted to study him. I wanted to be a bystander in his life, observing his ways, and his behaviours, watching how he spoke to me, the things he said, the things he didn’t say. I wanted to dissect him into a million pieces because there wasn’t much else going on in my life. It was one part entertainment, one part intrigue, one part boredom, one part distraction and a few parts oh to hell with it - what’s the worst that could happen? And before I knew it, he had his fuckboy claws in me by about week seven. It felt like a fuckboy mist, a spell had come over me, and a cunning hook or implant had been inserted inside me. I’m sure he wasn’t all that bad, I mean on some level, I’m sure he is a good person when you aren’t his prey, but for the story’s sake, let’s not fall too in love with him.
This wasn’t the first time these claws had been in me, there had been a few others along the way where looking back they were weaving fuckery. It may have been packaged up differently. I may have felt different and I may not have played the game as much or for as long but I realise now, this was not my first fuckboy. It was just the first time I realised or coined them the term.
So back to Brando and the lesson I learnt. When I realised I was in fuck boy city, I wanted to leg it out there as fast as I could. I booked a one-way ticket out of there and vowed never to return to such a low vibrational place. I marched myself straight into my hypnotherapist’s office which is my version of a shrink. I realised in that moment that I had been low-key attracting this fuckery in some way all my life and I was the common denominator in all this. I wanted to take responsibility for my part or at least take a magic pill that would help me to remove any desire to visit this intoxicating fuck boy city in the first place. So for me, this magic pill was rewiring my subconscious programs, patterns and beliefs that lurk beneath. It’s the dust you can’t always see, but it’s in your home, causing your allergies. I realised that yes he was a fuck boy, and a good one at that. And while he had a whole host of ‘issues’ that he wasn’t dealing with that were making him behave this way, he was also a mirror for me to realise what I was attracting or at the very least attracted to (when I didn’t want to be) and despite me cleaning up a lot of my side of the street, there was still some emotional unavailability in me that I was hiding from. Behaviours that I was still playing in, faulty wiring I had not seen without him, and perhaps a few daddy issues too.
In every lesson, there seems to be this eureka moment. A pivot. A shift. A change. Whether it’s a person, a place, or a situation that occurs that makes you wake up from your amnesia state and you decide then and there to choose a different way. You are actively seeking something different than the path you’ve become most acquainted with. A new desire has catapulted out into the world. For me, the desire to move on from my patterns and cycles to be closer to what I truly want far outweighed the desire to receive any more attention (manipulation) from Brando. I still felt a bit sad for him. I was still angry at myself for falling for the fuckery, but I put on my big girl pants, dusted myself off and did the work so that I wouldn’t be attracted to these very charming but not very good for your soul, pussy, self-worth, men ever again.
*Being in any relationship or situationship that is manipulative, abusive or in any way unsafe can become detrimental to your mental health and who you are as a human being. If anyone is reading this that has become involved with someone who does not respect or treat you right, I do urge you to seek professional help or reach out to loved ones for support. While there is truth in this piece, it is mostly for creative expression and storytelling purposes.
Thank you for allowing me the space to express myself.