When Fuckboys Want To Be Victims Too

Writing inspiration can come from the strangest places. That proverb has never rung truer considering that a Kardashian has inspired me to write. Let me rephrase that: Rob Kardashain’s latest behavior reminded me of an old friend from my past. Both of whom are fruit of the same poisonous tree.

Journey with me.

I knew a guy in undergrad who literally cheated on his girlfriend every chance he got. Which actually wasn’t a lot because he was a swag deficient parasite. But nevertheless, he persisted. A real fucking dirt bag. I was a little dusty too at the time.

Let the record show that I’m only using the word “swag” because I’m writing in retrospect. This was 2009ish. “Swag” was in everyone’s lexicon. I would never use such a gawd-forsaken word today.

Anyways, one day I guess his “girlfriend” got fed up with the lies, abuse, and infidelity and gave him a taste of his own medicine. I use quotation marks around the word girlfriend because I believe they were actually on a break at the time of this Greek tragedy.

I was actually there when he found out that love didn’t live here anymore. I literally heard his heart break. If you have never heard the sound of a nigga’s heartbreaking, just listen to the piano chord progressions of Carl Thomas’ ‘I Wish’.

Here’s a random YouTube cover of some guy playing the chords to ‘I wish” if you’re into that sort of thing.

After he was done crying, wiping snot from his nostrils, and putting the finishing touches on his suicide letter that was literally written in his tears, the first thing he tried to do was expose her nudes and unsolicited tales of her “hyper-promiscuity” that was conveniently such a problem now. I’ve never seen a nigga’s tear ducts swell up like that. In hindsight, we should have taken him to the emergency room. But what’s done is done.

Here is a dramatized picture of how his tear ducts looked if you’re into laughing at people who get what they deserve.

This is actually a battered Andre Berto after his fight with Floyd Mayweather.

A few weeks later, he was banging on her door like Fred Flintstone in the end credits. Literally begging and pleading with her to take his stanking ass back. Luckily she didn’t.

Since we’ve already established you’re into things, here’s another dramatized picture of him baby please’n at her door.

“Baby Please!!!”

I know this behavior all too well. Rob is no exception.

I could speak ad nauseam about how a fuck boy should conduct themselves after taking a much-deserved L. I could also speak ad nauseam about how the world would be a better place if fuck boys didn’t exist. Maybe I’d be writing something else today if they didn’t.

But we know how this movie ends. There are no character arcs. It’s the fuckboy circle of trife

We don’t live in a perfect world.

We live in a world where fuck boys want to be victims too.