The Rise of the Fuckboy
Last night I bar hopped with my best friend along Toronto’s King West strip. We visited a few old-faithful bars and a few new hot spots. It was 40 degrees out, I had just worked ten days in a row and I, admittedly, was not at my friendliest. But after my third or fourth interaction with the gentlemen (VERY loose use of that term here) of Toronto who were out and about last night, I found myself blatantly rolling my eyes at these dudes out of pure exhaustion and exasperation.
I’m going to preface this piece by saying that I don’t mean to paint the entire male population of Toronto with the same brush. This year, I have had the pleasure of meeting some amazing men in our lovely city who have truly restored my faith that there are good guys out there who are thoughtful, kind and considerate of the women they interact with in casual relationships, serious relationships and friendships. But on the other hand, I’ve noticed a serious deterioration in the way a lot of women and men interact with one another.
The ‘neg’ defined as a ‘low-grade insult meant to undermine the self-confidence of a woman so she might be more vulnerable to your advance’ seems to be many men’s favourite way to try and make something happen with a woman. Last night the neg was out in full force. One man (sorry, boy) struck up a conversation by telling me about all the Ivy Leagues he had attended - his friend later told me they had met at Guelph … He then inquired about my relationship status. When I told him I was single, he asked ‘why, what’s the problem?’ I guess, I was unaware that being single implied that I had some kind of problem. He then asked how long it had been since I had had sex. There was an implication, based on his tone, that it had been a while for me. Let’s be clear, to my knowledge, there are very few women who struggle to find willing sexual partners. As the brilliant Amy Schumer put it, ‘I can catch a dick whenever I want’. It’s not a problem I have and this guy doesn’t need to solve it for me. It, clearly, however, seems to be a problem for him. He capped off his attempt at getting laid by offering me some cocaine. Because, when all else fails, I guess you can at least try to get a girl drunk or high enough to agree to go home with you. When things didn’t work out for him, he explained to his friends and me that I had let my looks go to my head and was acting stuck up.
Walking home, in true Carrie Bradshaw form, I couldn’t help but wonder … who are all these fuckboys and where did they come from?! When did it become acceptable to waste people’s time? To cancel plans at the last minute? To break promises? Why do so many men feel the need to mount a defense mechanism that makes women feel poorly about themselves? A few years ago, I would often be crippled with feelings of insecurity after a night out. I felt like I wasn’t pretty enough, skinny enough, outgoing enough, fun enough etc … because of interactions like the one I just described.
I’ve come a long way since then, I’ve dated a lot, I’ve had relationships, I’ve learned enough about myself and others to know better. These days, it takes a lot more than an idiotic ‘neg’ to shake me but they do still frustrate me. We go out at the end of a long workday to be with friends, listen to music, eat good food, try new drinks and unwind. Life is hard, loved ones get sick, relationships break up, work can be stressful, money can be tight. Why do we need to be insensitive and demeaning to one another on top of it all? What’s the point?
I guess this piece is really a shout-out to the good guys. You won’t finish last, trust me. Please keep doing what you’re doing. Women are tired and when you approach us kindly and tell us that you think we’re beautiful, it’s refreshing. When you ask us thoughtful questions and listen carefully to our answers it means the world. When you share a bit of yourself with us …. well, that’s the name of the game really, that’s the foundation for building a connection.
Personally, I’d rather spend my time forming connections than building walls.
Don’t you agree?