Twenty-first-century masculinity is ever in the throes of some melodramatic paroxysm. Case in point: It has now come to our attention that some dudes are seriously, grievously offended by the term f*boy.
To be fuccboi, is to value f#*@ing above all, especially personal connection or commitment, such that you reliably disappoint any lover by ignoring them except under the horniest of conditions, with the bulk of your energy spent on the project off f@*#ing many other, different people. Once a sexual relationship is attained, the f*@#boy will put the bare minimum into sustaining that avenue of pleasure while cultivating the next, hoping in all for a casual harem to cycle through as he likes.
“F@*#boy” is a useful term in that it describes a common type at large in Tinderized hook-up culture. It abolishes the f@*#boy’s vagaries he’s “busy,” or “going through a lot right now,” or “not ready for anything serious” as a smokescreen for his habit of thinking entirely with his d@*#. It nails him to the wall when he’s used to squirming free. He resents having his behaviour summarized so bluntly, of course.
The double standard is almost as glaring as the word “Supreme” on a f@*#boy’s sweatshirt. While sexually active women are deemed unloyal “sluts” and “whores” on the premise that they ought to reserve their bodies for him, men are supposed to sleep around. They’re hard-wired this way! It’s basic biology! To undermine this reductive notion is to attack him for his very maleness, and that is, you know, completely unfair.
I hurt a fuckboy’s feelings today, how’s your Wednesday evening going? pic.twitter.com/fK9FNWeeTs
— Joy 🌊 (@joy_epps) August 16, 2018
It’s no shock that a f@*#boy, confronted on his blatant f@*#boyhood, would play the victim while impugning the woman (or women, plural) who called him out. He always seeks to shift the fault in a toxic dynamic back to her. Note in these defences how the man bears no responsibility for his negligence or callousness; if a woman f@*#s a f@*#boy, she has brought the misery on herself. He doesn’t deny that he’s basically trash, it’s the classic “I’m a piece of scum” defence but blames those he torments for not recognizing his shitty nature and knowing better. It’s the tale of the scorpion and the frog.
When the f@*#boy initiates his quasi-romantic routine, he has every expectation that the pairing will later run aground on his fundamental indifference, and so he cannot fathom why the woman would not see this, too. Pining after a f@*#boy is her punishment for continued optimism for believing he could be anything else.
