Nah, I'on Even Want It...
This, that, the other...I don't even know why I get my hopes up anymore.
It’s hilarious, the dude who has yet to sleep with you.
There’s not a dude more attentive, quicker on the messaging, or more interested in your day. I’m talking about, dude is on point though.
But, remember, in the Fuckboy Playbook, this is page 4. They know, and they bet everything on, the fact that no woman is coming out of her clothes for a guy that doesn’t text back, a guy that doesn’t remember the stories you told him. All they have to do is pay attention for a few days, and it’s all green light, all day baby.
We just want to be heard. To feel like we have something interesting to say, that someone cares about our day, our feelings, our interactions with people.
We just want to have a best friend, if we’re being honest.
Well, guess what, I have a best friend. His name is Brian, and that poor dude has to listen to my bullshit morning, noon, and night. Then I make him go on the show, and discuss the things that bother me, because I don’t annoy him enough via text, email, Quora, and every other way I have found to reach out and touch Brian simply to let him know, “Boy, you can not avoid me, so stop trying”.
I jest, and y’all know this, but the moral is I do have a great best friend. One who makes me feel heard, who supports my work, and who lets me know that as a person, I am important. I try very hard to be the same kind of friend to him. To let him know I see him being a great dude and great person, I respect his climb up the corporate ladder, and his mission to be a better man than these worms that try to be in the same class. News flash, assholes, you never will be on the same scale as my boy is. Brian outdoes you fools on every level.
Would you like to know how I know? Check this out, middle of last year, Brian and I are having a chat about something, just a random talk. March of this year, Brian can recall exactly how I felt about it, maybe not the words, but he knows what I said and how I felt. Because he knows me, he knows how I roll, and he isn’t afraid to actually just take a moment and listen. He’s my people, my fam, and his only reason is because we care about one another, therefore, we care what happens to one another.
While these other dudes are out here trying to be BMan, he’s just moving on about his life. Being cool about life. Doing things to be successful in life. These dudes can’t be him. But, they have zero problem hating on the friendships that he has (remember that one dude, BMan, where you were “spying”?)
See, what these guys out here that are so busy trying to sleep with me fail to realize is that my best friend is a man. So when I say “ay, BMan listen to what dude said to me”, I don’t get the response a woman would give. The “ohmyGod, girl, that is so sweet, he’s amazing, blah blah, blah”. I get “hold on, send me the message, something sounds wrong. Did you tell him that you x,y, or z? I can’t see those words coming from you”.
I have a backup brain, basically, for when my emotions take over and I can’t trust myself to make a rational decision. If I think for even a second that I’m going to allow myself to do something based on emotion, I’m calling Brian. I’m going to tell him the facts. I’m going to ask him to run it back to me in a way that it sounds to a man. Because if it is a man saying it to me, he knows I’m doing that thing that women do. I’m attaching emotion to it, I’m reading it fully emotional. That’s where the problem starts.
I have been a fool for love my whole life. I have been cheated on, walked on, lied to, beaten, mistreated, and tossed aside. I will not allow any of that to happen again, not without putting up a damned good fight first.
So, if what it takes is to have someone I know cares for me explain something to me in a language that I can understand, yes, I’ll take the translated version for $1000, Alex. It’s how I avoid the emotional trap that Fuckboys love to lay. It’s how I keep myself grounded, my head out of the proverbial clouds.
I realized long ago that I am my own worst enemy in terms of love. I wanted so desperately to be loved. I wanted someone in my life to be my best friend, to lay on the couch and watch TV with, someone who would be my biggest fan.
In that search, I made a series of horrible mistakes that left me broke, broken-hearted, and holding both pieces of that broken heart, wondering what in the fuck I even tried for.
Now, I lay on the couch with some good, good boys. I have a biggest fan, actually a couple of them, and I love y’all too, you know I do. And as far as a best friend, yeahhhh…Mr. Fif Flo has that distinguished title, and you bitches had better know the way he runs down shit for me, I return that favor, so don’t even come at Brian with some weak ass game, because I’m all about smoking that shit right on out.
The moral of the tale is, I often fell victim to the Fuckboy game of listening and caring for as long as it took to get me naked because I lacked the support in my life that I needed. I was so lonely, and so alone, and I felt as though I had nobody to turn to in times happy or sad. They not only took advantage of that, they left me in worse shape than they found me, making me more susceptible to the next Fuckboy that came along to “listen”.
I had to fix that part of myself. I had to close the glitch in my program that allowed those viruses to slip into my defenses. I had to build a wall they couldn’t climb, but how? How could I, a writer, and a poet, and a woman with a heart much too big for her body, protect myself from the illusion of love?
My friends helped me. My friends filled in the blanks. My friends listened, and they reminded, and they talked me through the hard parts. They stood there while I ranted, and they hugged me when I cried. My friends were the ones who listened, and not because they wanted something from me. Because they love me. The very same way that I love them.
So, to you, Fuckboy, nice try, kid. Thanks, but no thanks. I forgot, this weak ass game has already been run around here once before. I just had to go back in the messages to see how I handled it the last time.
For my friends, I love y’all. And for BMan, the boys said they want to read the Hardy Boys series, and mom can’t do the voices right. Big Unc is going to have to do it. Please be safe, Brian, it’s HOT in this mufugga.