Dear F*uck Boys,
It has come to my attention that you have no damn clue how dating works. From the courting stage, the actual date, and what comes after; you seem to be lost and blindly led by your penis.
Don’t listen to that thing. He is wrong.
And don’t think that I am ignorant to the fact that we are living in a different dating climate. This is the hook up culture where our dating is configured through algorithms on an app where we can swipe left or right like we are choosing a piece of cake from the dessert cart. I get that in this hook up culture, we are encouraged to lead with the tingling feeling in our loins and rush, or even skip, the steps that got your parents to where they are today (the happily together ones). And I also understand that, for many of you, your parents have coddled you for so long that the thought of persuing a partner and even putting in more effort than a swipe right followed by a few texts of “WYD?” at 2 am is quite daunting. Yes, yes, I understand that you are still recovering from that one time in 6th grade where Becky Rodgers rejected you right there on the tennis court for the entire grade and a few teachers to witness. That must of stung.
But, you are an adult (or at least claiming to be one). If you want to go out with me, ask. I might say no. I might say maybe. I might even say yes. But you will never know unless you actually ask me.
*Important note: If you have a girlfriend, wife, baby mama of less than 6 years, a girl that thinks she is your girlfriend, a side chick, a side chick trying to be the front chick, and wife you want to divorce but haven’t, a wife you are staying with for the sake of the kids, or any woman that you are emotionally or physically attached to, do not, under any circumstances, ask me out. The answer is hell to the naw.
Once I agree to go out, plan something. Don’t roll up into my inbox like I owe you something and insistently ask me when we are going to link up with no plans in mind. I am not your mommy. I am not going to ask you out and make the plans.
Once you have asked me out, made the plans, set a firm fucking date for the love of everything right in this world. Don’t say sometime this week, maybe on Monday, around the weekend. NO!
Once we are on a date, if you want to ever see what I look like without clothes and swap pheromones, follow these simple rules:
- You pay. Sure I may go dutch in the future but you are paying if you asked me out.
- Pick me up unless I suggest otherwise.
- Knock on my DAMN DOOR when you are outside. Don’t text and absolutely, under no circumstance do you honk the horn.
- Pull my chair out if we are going to dinner.
- Open all of the doors.
- If you can’t carry a conversation, cancel the date until you learn how. There should be YouTube tutorials on that.
Assuming our date has gone well, if you are into me, reach out. If the date went real shitty in your eyes but I thought it went splendidly, have the balls to say, “hey, I’m not really interested. It was nice meeting you though”. Sure, my feelings will be hurt but going ghost shows how much of an asshole you are and how incapable you are of confronting your feelings head on. I respect a hey this is not my thing more than a where the fuck did this guy go.
If you have done all of this just to get into my pants, I will tell you right now, that is quite pathetic. If sex is your motivation, be up front. Why waste $100+ on gas, dinner, and a hair cut when you can just be up front with what you want. There is a 50% chance that I may want the same thing.
Listen, f*ck boy, I can only imagine how hard it must be to not have common fucking sense enough to be genuine, honest, and authentic.
I hope this helps.
Not your future wife