To all the beloved F*ckboys I have encountered in my life,
I want to start by saying that f*ckboys are my type. This is every reason why I hate to love them and why I always will.
First of all, thank you. Thank you for kissing every girl at the party but telling me I'm the prettiest one there, I'm sure that worked on everyone else too. Thanks for being so smooth like that. I can honestly say that I admire how you manage to charm yourself in and out of every situation with a sweet smile and all the right words.
How do you do it? How do you always know just the right thing to say and the perfect time to say it? Do you have a list on your phone somewhere or have you just said these things to so many girls that you have it memorized? Whatever the case, it's working because you have me fooled every time you tell me you love me.
That's another thing. Why me? Was it just because I was the first one to answer out of the six girls you texted at the end of the night? I'm sure it was, but damn, did you make me feel special.
You're young and you don't want to commit, I get it! But when I see you the next day, you could at least acknowledge me. I'm not saying you have to get down on one knee and ask for my hand in marriage, but would it really kill you to wave?
At this point I find it funny every time you say, "I'll text you," because you never even bothered to get my number. It's whatever though, you use Snapchat as your main source of communication by mass sending shirtless selfies. Classic f*ckboy move. Oh, and while we're on the topic of classic moves, stop using being blackout as an excuse! Alcohol does not impair your ability to be a decent person, you just aren't one.
Of course you don't owe me anything though, because I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew the kind of person you were, but I thought you could change; I thought I could be the one to make you want to change. When you hook up with another girl right in front of me, I have no right to get mad at you, because I knew it was bound to happen. It was really my fault for saying, "love you too" and meaning it when I knew you were just playing me.
My favorite thing about you though, is how easily you can turn it around on me in the end. When you're the one who f*cked up, you'll still find something to blame me for. You'll make me feel like the bad guy for some insignificant thing I didn't even do, and I'll probably feel terrible about it. You play the part of the victim so well you deserve an Oscar. Bravo, truly incredible work!
Anyways, thanks for always giving me a reason to lie in bed for days listening to Taylor Swift feeling sad for myself. Happy Valentine's Day, F*ckboys, you keep doing you and I'll keep falling in love with your bullsh*t.
Gab and every other girl you've ever f*cked over