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The Sad Life of a F__kboy
Living in an age of forced promiscuity isn’t all it’s chalked up to be
In case you’re not familiar with the term, a fuckboy is basically a man of low repute who has many sexual partners. I’ve recently come to the sad realization that I am one — even though I ended up becoming one completely on accident.
I’m looking for what anyone is looking for: I’m searching for a deep, lasting love. I occasionally crave sex but not in the form of random hookups; I need some sort of intimacy and psychological connection to go along with the act. I also want platonic friends who I can hangout with. Yet, from these simple wants, I’ve somehow hurt so many, and engaged in so many nights of empty lovemaking that it’s left me feeling unclean.
Frankly, I’m not sure how most men and women aren’t in my same situation. I’ve racked up most of these “notches on the bedpost” simply by failed attempts at finding love. I meet someone I like, and eventually we decide to take it to the bedroom, but either there’s no spark there, or the relationship just dwindles out over time. That ends it, and there’s nowhere to go but onto the next.
There have been so many times where it’s seemed like a match early on. Maybe there’s something blinding about those first few meetings, wherein, if things go well, it’s all just…
