There’s no better time to do some soul-searching or self-discovery than in the middle of the night, four hours before you have to get up for work.
As I lay in bed and tuned out Netflix while trying to fall asleep, I received some booty call texts from the f*ckboy in my life.
It made me start thinking.
In my life, I’ve come across many f*ckboys, and they’ve made no significant impact in my life and have never stayed around long.
Yet for some reason, this certain f*ckboy managed to snag a spot in my life for almost six years.
In the beginning, before I knew just how much of an assh*le he was, I saw myself creating a life with him.
I envisioned our future together.
However, as time went on, he started behaving like all f*ckboys — sleeping around, lying to me, etc. — and the future I once saw slowly faded away.
Fast-forward six years, and there’s not a chance in hell he’s “the one" for me.
I am fully aware he’s not my Prince Charming, and the half-drunk, "Come hang" texts at midnight won’t magically turn into meaningful, sweet "I love yous."
My life is not a rom-com, and he is no Ryan Gosling.
We aren’t friends. We don’t confide in each other or really even talk about our days.
Our conversations have no depth to them, and most of the time, our texts take place when one or both of us are under the influence.
We barely see each other, and when we do, it’s for a quick hookup.
Then, we don’t talk for several days.
Both of us have given up on the “What are we?” talk, and we don’t ever discuss feelings or other people we may be talking to.
So, why in the hell is he still in my life?
I have no other explanation to this question other than he fills my time when I’m bored and lonely.
He is a temporary means to an end in my life.
I now realize this sort of makes me a f*ckgirl.
I use him to make me feel a little less lonely when those times roll around when I realize I’m single and have nobody to call bae.
I usually only reach out to him when I’m drunk.
I never stay the night or let him stay the night.
I talk to other people without telling him about them or them about him.
I say I don’t believe in labels.
I don’t ever want to be seen in public with him.
So, I’m officially a f*ckgirl, and I’m okay with it.
A little part of me feels like sh*t because I’ve become what I hate, but most of me loves it.
I love the freedom of being able to do whatever I want, but I am still able to run to someone I feel comfortable with when I’m lonely or horny.
I have control over my feelings and what happens to them.
I have someone when I want someone, but I also have space and my own life.
I don’t have to report to someone, and I don't have to listen to his complaints.
I get the benefits with no downfalls of a relationship.
I also know I’m not hurting anyone.
He isn’t secretly in love with me, and I’m not stringing him along.
We have a mutual understanding of what we’re doing.
We’re each other’s f*ckpeople.
My only worry is my f*ckboy will grow up and find someone who makes him want to stop being an inconsiderate, commitment-phobic assh*le.
I don't want him to leave me in the dust with nobody to fill my time and loneliness.
That is why the most f*ckboy of all f*ckboys remains in my life.