I wrote this piece one day out of frustration on my personal Tumblr, and I got a great response, so I decided to share it with my Ms. Vixen family.
I'm single and I have decided not to date, because honestly i'm exhausted. I don't have the patience right now, to nurture another idiot, and feel drained afterward. The past two years I've had a heavy rotation of men whom I would classify as fuck boys. Men who are jerks for no reason, and some aren't aware that they are selfish, inconsiderate pieces of flesh, that have come into your life to cause ruckus. Honestly many of these men are insecure, or fighting demons we know nothing about. In addition almost all of them haven't even earned to right to be fuck boys. To understand the psyche of a fuck boy, I've written something that pretty much illustrates the way their mind works.
I’m cunning but incredibly dumb, which makes you think otherwise at first. My wit is great, which would lead you to believe my thoughts are deep. They aren't. They’re actually incredibly shallow, murky and grimy like a nasty street puddles, and I don’t care, why? ‘Cause I am a Fuck Boy
I communicate horribly, never really answering yes or no, to very direct questions. When I do answer, its half truths and nonsense, run arounds are my specialty. Why, cause I don’t know shit, I am Fuck Boy.
I disappear and reappear in your life when it’s convenient for me, as if nothing horrible has occurred. I try to slither my way back in through emails and Facebook inbox’s. Acting like I care, and I absolutely don’t. I am a creature of opportunity, and today might be the day you give in to my advances, so I press send. Do I care if you've finally moved on to happy moments? Hell nah, I’m a Fuck Boy.
I am a plethora of mind fucks, very good at planting seeds of insecurity. The master of the flip, diverting all bad energy off of me. At the end of every argument you’re left thinking “wait, maybe I am crazy”. What if I told you, you have never been crazy. But simply a victim of me, a Fuck Boy.
I’m selfish, and my feelings are most important, yours are always secondary. I’m a lot of mess, and seek women who like to tend to them. Who have a desire to be the cure, who think they have the power to rehabilitate me. There’s no fixing me sweetie, I am a Fuck Boy
I’m a festering boil that only gets worse before it gets better. I swell with puss and become something ugly, and you keep tending to me. One day i’ll explode. All the nasty smelly mucus I've acquired will spill out, on to you. All of me that has rotted, died and I no longer need, I will release on to you. You’ll look up covered in my musty, excrement and will ask me “Why? Why would I do this to you, to a person who cared and loved you unconditionally” and i’ll look back to you as I walk away from you, on to my next conquest and simply reply “Cause I am who I am, I am who you met me as, and I live life the only way I know how, as A Fuck Boy.