This post is a blunt account of my exchange with a fuckboy that recently resurfaced.
I was checking my Instagram when I saw a new direct message.
It was one of the guys I randomly hooked up with 4 years ago, back when I took pride in being a bad bitch and partying hard was my forte.
“Hey, remember me?
What’s your number?
I think I lost it.”
Oh, gosh. I already know what this man wants. I know fuckboys too well. They spring out of nowhere to message you when your Instagram feed is updated with good-looking selfies. They’re like nasty cockroaches craving for moist sponge, really.
I met this particular fuckboy at 7th High. I still remember that night. I asked 2 of my friends to go clubbing with me, without them knowing I was high as a kite on extacy. My hair was freshly dyed red then, inspired by Rihanna when her LOUD album came out. We were doing shots when the DJ started playing We Found Love. That was my jam, and since I was pretty out of it, I ran up to the stage, started dancing with other girls as I mouthed the lyrics. I was totally feeling myself and the vibe of everything surrounding me when a foreign-looking man walked up to where I was and started talking to me. I couldn’t hear him from (pun alert) how high I was on the stage, so I crouched myself to get closer to him and asked what he just said. He didn’t say anything. He just kissed me right then and there. I was surprised, but intrigued. I got off the stage. Totally skipping small talk, he asked me straight if I wanted to go home with him. Turns out, he was a friend of one of the friends I came with. Without hesitations, I said okay. We passed by our friends back where our table was and told them we were leaving. I didn’t give them any chance to ask why, but by the look of our smug faces, I’m sure they knew what we were up to. We kept walking to the door and left to get a cab.
We went to his place where we did the deed. I remember him getting off and then falling asleep beside me right after. I remember because I felt like I wasted my time. He didn’t bother trying to please me in bed, so I guess just to “properly” end it, I faked my orgasms. I left his place the next day, but only after we had morning sex where he finished again and I didn’t. Like what happened the night before, he just dozed right off. Basically he jizzed, told me it was fun, and went back to sleep. I wasn’t even done putting my socks on.
The push and pull of whether I should reply or not kept going for about 40 minutes.
Finally, I decided to respond.
“Of course! You’re the guy who just fell asleep on me right after that time we had sex.”
I followed it with “LOL.”
He got defensive. He said he was sure he gave me an orgasm.
“Why do you want my number?
I don’t do one night stands anymore.”
A second right after I sent those string of messages, I received the following from him:
“Maybe we can hook up.
And there it was. Confirmation of the gut-feel I had from the minute I saw his DM. He’s just a fuckboy wanting to use me yet again to fulfill his horniness. Instead of just blocking him right away, I got excited as I had an epiphany. I saw our chat as an opportunity to redeem myself.
I told him it was so random to hear from him again after so long.
“Hahahaha! Maybe we can be friends naman. Not sex lang.”
*eyeroll ng sobrang lupit*
HAY NAKO! HERE WE GO AGAIN. Another guy wanting to be friends with me with the benefit of getting to tap my ass. And all for what? NOTHING. ZERO. NADA. I’m getting really fucking exhausted from all the fuckboyism everywhere! It still amazes me how these guys have so much courage to ask for sex when they don’t have anything to bring to the table, figuratively speaking. Or the bed, literally. Mga puñeta! LOL.
“Haha! Basta may sex, ‘no?”
He said he “can be trusted as a friend.” I responded with, “great” (as if we’ll ever be friends).
Some guys will really say anything they think you want to hear to get in your pants. I should’ve told him I have a bunch of awesome friends already. I’m fine with not having one more, specially if he’s a fuckboy.
He changed the topic. He probably sensed I’m not giving in to his self-serving, one-sided requests.
He asked how I’ve been. I said I’ve been busy working on a book. I told him about the advocacy and all that. We didn’t really know anything about each other besides our names until this conversation. He opened up and shared how he gained so much weight from his lifestyle in the advertising industry. Partied too much, drank too much, ate too much. He said he’s living healthy now and is into CrossFit.
I told him I’m trying to live healthy too, and that I do my circuit training at our condo’s gym with my personal trainer. “Graduate na ako sa wild days ko,” I said. “I’m getting old!”
He asked how old and I said 25.
He brought up our one night stand again. He was saying how long ago it was already since I was still studying when we met. I confessed that I actually lied about that. I was already working when that eventful night at The Fort happened. He continued recalling moments from our time spent together and said we even met twice to hook up.
I candidly said I couldn’t remember the second time. All I remember was that night from 7th High. He reiterated that we hooked up twice. I was cringing as I read his messages. I told him again I really couldn’t remember.
He probably thought I was asking for him to refresh my memory, because he started telling me more of what happened on those two occasions.
I stopped him by saying “LOL SHET!” to which he replied with a question, “Bakit, ganun ba ako nakakadiri?”
He wasn’t disgusting.
“NO!!!! You just didn’t make me orgasm. LOL”
Whoops. Did I just…? I guess I did.
I just told a guy I had a one night stand with that he didn’t do wonders for me and my precious vag. LOLOLOL
I guess what’s really happening is I’m starting to be secure in my womanhood and my identity again that I really couldn’t give a shit about this fuckboy’s opinion of me as I replied with no holds barred. And this is a good thing, because I used to be Cool Girl. You know, that woman who morphs her entire being to fit in the mold of this Fantasy Chick every guy wants. I hated her. It’s time to be true to me. I’d rather be Real Woman than Fantasy Cool Girl any given day. This was my way of redeeming the 21-year-old “Cool Girl” Stacy. The one who wouldn’t and couldn’t call out the douchebaggery of men to save her own life, and worse, the one who fakes her orgasms to boost a man’s ego.
I’M THE DISGUSTING ONE.
His turn to reply.
“I did kaya.
Nag-moan ka kaya!”
“Dali naman i-fake ‘nun eh.”
“You were not faking it!”
“How would you know! Hahaha! Anyway, okay lang ‘yun. Ano ka ba.”
“I bet I could please you.”
AYAAAAAAN. WOOOOOOOW. NGAYON BIGLANG NA-CHALLENGE KA. TOO LATE BOY, YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE.
Kaloka these fuckboys talaga.
“Graduate na ako sa pagiging fuckgirl eh.”
“Grabe, hindi ka naman fuckgirl.”
“You have no idea about the extent of the stuff I did.”
“Why? What did you do. Make kwento.”
So I did. I told him about how I would screw around whenever I was high on chemicals and how I never slept with the same guy twice. *cringing again as I type this*
I put a halt to reminiscing the bad/wild/crazy old days with, “Kaya nga I’m surprised we did it twice.”
“Baka you liked it kasi! Hahaha!”
Force pa more! Pwede bang may pinag-dadaanan lang na self-destructive phase and I was doing one night stands out of self-loathing? Kailangan ba nagustuhan agad? Fuckboy logic, ladies and gentlemen.
“LOL hindi nga!”
I apologized for being brutally honest. He said it was fine.
All of a sudden, he became introspective. Given that it’s been 4 years since we did what we did, he says he is now a changed man.
Whuuuuuuut? Is he trying to tone down his fuckboy-ness midway our conversation by saying “he’s changed”? What just happened? He was just getting my number to get inside my pants a few minutes ago. All of a sudden the self-proclamation of being a changed man? What does that mean? Was it because of my honesty about not screwing around anymore? Or was it because I didn’t reciprocate the kalandian? Could this be my new superpower???
I told him for sure we’ve evolved, it’s been almost half a decade ago anyway.
I ended our chat and told him I wanted to hit the sauna and then swim.
“As long as we keep it friendly! Not tonight though, I’m exhausted from my week and need my alone time.”
“Just kidding. I’m still at work. Invite me next time.”
That was the last message I received from him.
I must say, I’m getting better and better at expressing my truest self, and I am liking me all the more for it. I talk about this a lot because I’ve been so caught up with external approval. I used to do and say things with the intention of making guys attracted to me. And we all know when pleasing others is what you’re after, you don’t stay true to yourself. You stay true to who you think is the version of you they’ll like. I struggled with getting my validation from boys, hence the mastery of being a Cool Girl to make them like me. I became down for whatever they liked, never complained, and gave more than what they deserved. Sure, they ended up liking me, but the price I paid of lying to who I really was and pretending to be someone else was definitely not worth any of it.
I may be vocal about sex and sexuality, but this shouldn’t be misinterpreted as me saying girls should be free to do whatever they want with their bodies. There’s truth in that statement but it’s important to set limitations too. I am all for zero sex before marriage because I was a hardheaded young woman who got burned from all the consequences of casual hook ups before finally realizing the true meaning and value sex. I know now that sex can never and will never be casual, because it’s the most intimate thing two human beings can do. However, not everyone thinks the same, and I respect that. Although what I’d really want to do is convince women to realize that our pussy really has the power to change the game and make men step up and improve themselves for the benefit of humankind, I recognize that this is just wishful thinking. If only these things were up to me.
So I guess what I just really want to say to every woman out there who’s sexually active is this: NEVER. FAKE. YOUR. ORGASMS. EVER.
I get it, it’s the easy way out when getting there is taking too long, or worse, you’re not really enjoying it. You could also be protecting your partner’s ego from getting dented hence the mocked moaning (that you desperately want to seem legit), but it’s not doing anybody any good, really. Every time you fake it, you’re contributing to the population of men who can’t do shit for women and their vaginas and still leave them with inflated sexual egos. They think they’ve given you pleasure when it’s all a hoax, and guess what? The blame’s on you. According to New York-based marriage therapist Dr. Jane Green, “Faking your orgasms damages your sexual self-worth; eventually, you’ll start to think that you can’t have an orgasm, and you’ll wind up feeling like something’s wrong with you. The crux is, it’s important for you as a woman to be able to exhibit a range of sexual responsiveness that doesn’t reflect on your man. It’s important for you to be true to yourself!”
That last line is exactly why I feel strongly about being honest if the guy didn’t pleasure you. Orgasms are a big deal, and trust me when I say that men consider it a glorious victory when they give you one (or more!). There is no need to make someone falsely believe that they did you good when in fact, they didn’t—all for keeping the men’s ego from getting bruised while you don’t get anything in return. Staying true to who I am is something I’m still learning and getting the hang of daily, and I hope you do the same—even in bed. I know, I know. It’s not this fuckboy’s fault he thought I’d be DTF, since the first time it happened I didn’t even think twice before riding in a cab with him and I even pretended the sex felt great. But I believe it’s never too late to keep things real and be vocal about the truth.
I am not sexually active now (and I will ~*do my best*~ until I get married to rightfully unleash the freak in the sheets), but I’m glad I was able to reclaim at least some of the orgasms I faked by giving this fuckboy a reality check. That’s one less inflated sexual ego on the planet, and I only have my truest, honest self to thank. 😉