Guille Faingold

Why I Finally Grew Up: An Open Letter From A Former Fuckboy

I was born a nerd, and converted to fuckboy in my mid-20's.

Blame it on bad influences, but mainly blame me.

Obviously there were benefits. The main one was sex: lots of sex.

But there are drawbacks too. At first, I thought it was just STDs. Primitive men (my former self included) often think STDs can be avoided with condoms, or -- even worse -- the "she looks like a decent girl" mentality.

Yah, players suck.

Anyways, let us talk about a bunch of other cons you can't wipe clean with your dirty stiff socks:

1. Time. You get 520 weekends in your 20's.

It's an argument as old as time. Time is limited.

We all have goals. I want to write a novel, learn a foreign language, travel the world, visit family more, play video games, workout, learn an instrument, hang with friends, home brew beer, browse an antique store for a cool rotary phone, learn to stuff dead animals, READ A BOOK, go to the beach, get abs for the beach, save for a house, learn to talk to dead people, or of course be part of the first manned mission to Mars.

Well, they don't take fuckboy as a valid skill for the Mission to Mars. Elon Musk needs someone who can grow an endless supply of potatoes from just a few to start, and since Matt Damon is working fast to learn this in real life you better hurry on your special skill.

Seriously, we only get 520 weekends in the most critical decade of our lives.

Most of us lose 104 to college. Another 104 to our first few years of working, and then sometimes we sleep away the weekend.

If you are constantly on first dates and humping into a nameless vagina, when the hell are you going to write the next great American novel?

Go build something with your life, and fuck someone you care about. Stop being a player.

Your girlfriend will probably rub your shoulders as you write that novel, but the fuckgirl will be asking for money for an Uber home and leaving you with a tight neck. More importantly, you'll never write that screenplay.

2. Money. Not living in your parent's basement is cool.

OK, so not all fuckboys live in their parents' basement.

Many just pay student loans while we overpaying for rent in the city, and fill in the gaps with credit cards.

Stop pretending it will work itself out. You can't work a second job to pay down your $100K of undergrad debt if you're paying 60 bucks a vagina for 2 drinks each, and an Uber home.

Back to the first point, there is so much more to do with your time and money than waste it away trying to have a girl for every letter in the alphabet twice over.

3. Friendship. “Guy time” shouldn't be dressing up nice and turning into heat-seeking vagina missiles.

I have a ton of guy friends that I don't really know that well outside their ability to recite sports statistics.

They do this only slightly faster than the important measurements of a woman including bra sizes and ass sizes relative to their favorite produce item.

I don't know about you, but I want to get old and have a few friends to talk to about the size of the universe and our insignificance in the grand scheme of it all. I want to drink a cold beer, hike, or just sit with a friend and talk about that time we rode the rapids and lost our cooler in the mighty river.

So yes, there really is more to life than just chasing tail, and it only starts when you get over the idea of having lots of sex.

Because here's the thing: being a fuck boy isn't the only way to get laid. It's just the easiest.

Nothing good ever came easy. I was addicted too, but we have to stop swiping, gliding, brushing up, and clicking heart icons.

It might be time to chase a dream that really lives inside your own heart. It's a lesson we know well, but practice little. Time, money, and friendships; they are all limited resources. We need to spend and nurture them wisely.

To all the fuckboys out there: it's time to be men.

When it gets really hard (metaphorically or maybe actually), just think before you bend her over. Do you know her name? Are you proud of what you're doing? If you keep doing this, what else are you not doing? Did you ask her what kind of birth control she is on?

In all seriousness, do you want to have more to your life than a long list of blurry shapes and images of woman you can barely remember or brag about? What is your passion, and why aren't you chasing it?

Lastly, to all the women out there, I hope this wasn't too crude. I hope the jokes meant to keep the reader interested and in slight shock weren't too much.

I'm sorry for my foul-minded jokes, but I am truly sorry for being a fuck boy. I was a bad one. I fell in love; destroyed the black book. I let a good thing slip as I slipped in to old ways. I missed what I threw away. I had my heart broken. I missed opportunities. I let good habits fade, and bad ones form.

Skipping over quite a bit, lets simply summarize and say it has since worked itself out. I've found someone from my past that I have really connected with, and I've traveled the world and found that funny thing called inner peace. I hope you all find it too.

Love,

Jacob McCaffrey (Former Fuckboy, MBA)

This post was originally published on the author's personal blog.