If you read the title of this column to the tune of the "The Final Countdown," then you are welcome, and please, continue reading. If you didn't, you can still keep reading, but you need to tighten the fuck up with your musical knowledge.
For this, possibly my last, installment in the Fuckboy series, I am going to describe the Final Fuckboy. Once you have defeated all the other Fuckboys, you can rest not-so-easy, knowing that you will still have to do battle with the Darth Vadar/Voldemort/Gandalf of Fuckboys. You will need to be prepared. Here is my step-by-step booklet, to get your Fuckboy Game on track and not your wig pushed back (RIP Biggie).
First of all, you have to recognize that you are dating a Supreme Master Fuckboy. He is probably going to be a 'lil bit older, maybe perchance, a bit fucking wiser, but lemme remind you - HE AIN'T SHIT. So no matter what Fuckboy Sorcery he throws at you, he still ain't shit. With that being said, be prepared.
The Supreme Fuckboy is a tricky ass combination of all or most of the Fuckboys we have talked about. Just to refresh your memory, these are the ones: The Married Man; The Convenience; The Zero Fucks; The Back and Forth; The Classic; The Fixer Upper; The Submarine, and last but not least, The Girlfriend Experience. And when you have so many types of Fuckboys rolled into one, you may almost think that you are, in fact, not dating a Fuckboy. Oh, but my dear heart, you must now realize that this is the biggest, baddest Silver Fox of All Fuckboys. He will huff and puff and blow your wall down. And then show you what a Fuckboy he is.
Because this is the Black Belt Cobra Kai Fuckboy, you gonna have to sweep the leg and then crane kick the fuckboy the fuck outta this motherfucker. Recognize that just because you have an elderly gentleman caller who seems to not be a Fuckboy, heed my warning. He. Is. A. Fuckboy. Plain and simple. No matter what silver tongued tales your silver haired fox spins you, and trust me that shit will be platinum, he is still a Fuckboy. Say it with me - He is still a Fuckboy. Now write that shit on the chalkboard 50 times. Tattoo it on your hand. But never, ever forget that the older the berry, the fuckier the Fuckboy.
Now, I am sure a few of you are wondering why I would know so much about the Supreme Fuckboy. Oh, you know BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING DATING HIM. And it wasn't until we were going through our final days that I realized that this mid-life-crisis Fuckboy, was in fact not just any Fuckboy, as we had often joked, but the actually Fuckboy Supreme. Here's why:
1) He told me that because he was honest with me about not wanting to be in a relationship that I shouldn't be upset that things were ending. I had to not so gently remind him that just because you say you don't want a relationships, doesn't negate the fact that when you are solely dating (not just fucking) someone for 5 months, that a label, just like this Fuckboy, ain't shit. If I am honest with you and say I don't want to shit in your living room, and then I take a big nasty hot flaming shit in your living room, after taking little ones in the corner, you can't be mad at me, because I was honest about not wanting to take the shit, it just kind of happened.
2) As we were fighting he told me he loved me. That is THE Fuckboy move. Oh, you think that if you drop some L bombs on me, I am going to be ok with all your tired ass bullshit? Nah, brah, cus guess who I love more than any Fuckboy? Me, motherfucker. M.E.. And I have the receipt for the batteries I bought last Friday to prove it.
3) He went on a date the same night he fucked me in the morning. You know what that is. That is just fucking nasty...but he wanted to be honest with me about, so he told me 2 weeks later. Last time I fucking checked, honesty meant kind of the fuck when it happened, not two weeks later.
There are some other things, but I think you all get what I am throwing down. Just when you think it is safe to get back on your Hoe Stroll, you gotta keep your head on a swivel, so you can be prepared for the Supreme Fuckboy. He is out there, lurking in book stores, and buying you drinks at bars, making you think he is not actually sent from Hell to test your resistance.
And the funniest part of all of this? Because it is actually fucking hilarious. That when I defeated the Fuckboy Supreme, the fucking Portal to Fuckboy Purgatory opened up and I was contacted by not one, not two, but four of the ghosts of penis past, all hitting me with the the Fuckboy mating call of, "Hey, sup, WYD, How you been?" And if you are done with the ways of the Fuckboy, you gotta hit back with the, "New phone, who dis?," and then moonwalk the fuck back to your fucking happy place, full of batteries and boxed wine.
Hip Hop Hooray for Spinsterhood!
H-Bomb
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