According to (my) research…men are absolute jerks

Dated 4 guys, 100% of them are jerks.

14 years old, first love, got dumped because “ I like her”.

18 years old, second love, got dumped because “ I don’t love you anymore.”

19 years old, third love, got dumped because “ You deserve better.” (douchebag translator: I just want sex but you ain’t giving me.)

20 years old, forth love, haven’t got dumped yet but I’m sure he will be one of the assholes up there. Why? Because according to (my) research, men are absolute jerks.

I was in Malaysia with my family in December for 4 days. We were travelling in Kuala Lumpur, jamming food inside our mouth at the night market, letting the (imaginative) money rain on unnecessary goods at the shopping centres, exclaiming at the breathtaking models in the architecture museum. Nevertheless, being a clingy girlfriend, I couldn’t peel my mind away from my boyfriend. I never stopped texting my beloved boyfriend in UK and updating him with every bits and pieces of my life.

Taken on 20th December

“These have to be the best wings I have ever had!” — 4:00 pm Monday

I put down my phone, grabbed another chicken wing and started nomming. After an hour of non-stop eating, I leaned back, held my bursting stomach and let out a huge burp. Ignoring disgusted eyesights around me, I picked up my phone.

Nothing. Meh, he should still be sleeping. Wait… its 5:00pm here, that means its 9:00am there. He is back home with family so he should be up now! Okay, chill out, I’ll wait.

I put down my phone and reached for the last chicken wing and gobbled down the last spoon of rice while complaining how full I was and got eye-rolled by my mum. We were strolling in the mall carrying our huge tummies, hoping to walk the food off so we could eat dinner (that was tea at 5:00 pm). With my hands full of shopping bags and an empty wallet, I sat down on a bench and waited for my mum and dad. Then, like everyone else, I took out my phone with anticipation, then followed with a frown.

Nothing. 8:30 pm here, 12:30pm in the UK. Is he serious? I furrowed my brows and tutted. He is busy, yes he is busy.

“Joyce!” My mum shouted and waved from 10 meters away, everyone jumped and looked around horrified as if the mall is collapsing. Feeling extremely mortified, I cringed and shushed her. However, she ignored how other people were looking at her and went on about how cheap the clothes were.

Ding. I fished out my phone from the bottom of my bag frantically.

“We should meet up in Hong Kong!” — Amy 9:00pm.

Shut the fuck up. You tricked me you asshole Amy. Breath, he is with his family, don’t be so needy.

Once again, three of us carried our swollen stomachs and walked back to the hotel. I checked my phone just before bed, still no reply. I got worried and texted 12 of my friends about it, worried that I did something wrong, anxious about he would be one of those jerks telling me “I don’t love you.”.

Men are all jerks, you cannot let him step on me. No Joyce, you have been disregarded for 3 times. No Joyce, not this time. You gotta be tough, don’t find him, do not let him win. If he breaks up with you, let him be, that only means you have one more guy to add to your douchebags list. It is nothing, it is no big deal, it isn’t worth it to let him perturb you.

After an exasperating sleep, I woke up and checked my phone again. NOTHING. I slammed my phone on the counter and started putting on rage-make up (stabbing my eyes with the mascara wand repeatedly and deliberately (jk)). My face was bitch-face all along when we are on the subway, I look like Ron Swanson throughout the whole journey.

Then we arrived at the coach station to buy tickets to Ipoh. My mum sent my cranky ass to buy 3 tickets from the man whom I nearly snapped at (and I did) for no reason. After an hour under the blazing freaking sun, I was never more grumpy as I stomped to the ticket counter and asked the man

“When the fuck is the coach coming? It should be here by now!”

“There might be a little delay, sorry madam.” He said with a straight face.

I stared at him while walking away. (Sorry for snapping at you, if you read this by any chance, I sincerely apologise to you.)

10 minutes passed, we finally got on the bus. The air conditioner was a saviour, Mr.Anger in my head had chilled out a bit.

STILL NOTHING. It has been more than 24 hours! Yep, he is breaking up with me, like every-jerk else. Oh my god, maybe he met another girl.

While I was in my little drama, the BBC news popped up “Breaking news: Berlin truck attack…”. I gasped. Maybe he went to Berlin with his family and…

Oh come off it Joyce, he is alive. It is 100% sure, he is breaking up with you. No, maybe if I find him and find out what happened, at least I know why is he breaking up with me. Yes, make sense, I am texting him.

I lose again, as always. I can never be tough enough to stand up against others, I am always the one who step down and shut up.

“Hi.” Two letters, keep it simple, don’t let him know you are fretting.

Once I hit ‘send’. Something magical happened, 10 messages appeared one by one. My eyes widened with bliss and bewilderment.

“Good morning, just something for you to wake up to ❤”

“Oooh the wings look yummy!”

“How have you been?”

It was merely a technical problem. We were both texting each other but somehow Apple did not let us connect.

Humiliation, absurdity, derogatoriness filled up my whole body in a split second. I wished there was a well for me to jump down and never come out. My friends’ messages made me blushed with chagrin as they kept sending me consoling messages, trying to cheer me up and telling me not to overthink. I buried my face in my hands, I buried them so deep I wish I could suffocate myself.

So yeah, men are jerks.


Not really.

Maybe my overthinking issue is a bit over the line. But don’t we all have them? Well, not as severe as mine but…


With thanks to Ilaria Galletti