Friends, I stand at a fork in my, so far experienced anyway, marvellous road. To the right takes me down the same ol’ dusty trail that I’ve been on. Protein shakes. Trend chasing. Days spent in strange beds with only brief respites to the gym. The other road, the strange one that brings me so much anxiety, could lead to so much more, but also toward my own ruin. Is it better to dance in today’s fire or contemplate tomorrow’s ashes? I take a few steps in one direction and lose my confidence. I stumble and teeter, tip-toeing from one path to another. Do I continue as a Fuck Boy, or do I ascend to a Fuck Man?
You may be familiar with a fuck boy. We haunt the malls and the nicer avenues. If there is a neighbourhood with a manicured median separating the two sides of the street, chances are you will find boys of my ilk patrolling like old-timey beat cops, smacking our batons in the palms of our hands and using location services on our phones to slip into nearby womean’s DM’s. We are smooth. We are sly. We don’t have any money for rent, and we will gladly live with you and your parents and eat all the food in the house in our insatiable quest for protein. Chances are we swim or do some other totally useless activity that allows us to wear as close to nothing as possible. We make average men’s eyes roll because they want to be us and encourage the indifference of the women who…
