I’m just gonna be straight up with you. We’re in the middle of a fucking inferno, my boob sweat could potentially flood a small country, and I’m writing this in between my nightly routine of Netflix and actually trying to chill, so let’s just cut the shit. I know you’re fully aware of the qualities of a fuckboy – hell, you’re probably creeping on the hoe in his Snapchat story as we speak. So honestly, I’ve got better things to do than waste my precious time explaining to you what you should already know.
I will say that we’re officially halfway through summer, so if you haven’t yet been ghosted by some fratty fuck in Chubbies, or you’ve been hit up like 12 times for discounted fat-shaving supplements, then tbh, what have you been doing? On second thought, teach me your ways. But since I have nothing better to do than wait for some worthless POS to view my cleave shot on my Snap story while catching up on GoT, I’m about to take a wild guess go in depth as to how your choice of summer fuckboy speaks volumes about who you are, which really just shows how much of a garbage human I am. Whatever.
The One Who Claims He Has a Boat
So you care way too much about what people think of you. But like, same same. Your social media presence is blasted in everyone’s face, sort of like this guys’ outdated fashion suicide of Sperry’s and pastel button downs. You probably put as much effort into your all-white Instagram aesthetic as you did into trying to get him to “maybe take you on his yacht” someday. You have an affinity for pink martinis with a flower on the rim, but solely for use on social media. You may pretend to live on a strcit diet of sushi and coconut La Croix around him, but in reality, there’s still Taco Bell wrappers at your bedside from last night’s “accidental” drunk food order.
The Foreign Fuckboy
Sure, whatever, your trip to Yacht Week in Croatia was unforgettable, but only because you outdid the number of Instagram posts that are socially acceptable for like, idk a year. #Unfollow. You met some slimy Italian dude while on vacation whose thighs were more tan than yours, which is disgusting. You were obvi looking for one thing and one thing only: a foreign fuck. You were somehow mind-fucked (or actually fucked) into thinking that this guy will still be around next vacay, and your friends are dreading your return home because you already started a countdown on Twitter for the number of days you’ll see him again. Newsflash: Summer flings were only cool in Mary Kate & Ashley movies. Read a fucking book.
The Wannabe Wolf of Wallstreet
Let me guess: You adore that while everyone else was downing Kamikaze shots, this guy was decked out in a business suit (ugh fine). You tend to go for the older men as seen from your latest subtweet that read, “literally just can’t stand immature idiots anymore.” You adore his ambition and the fact that he hashtags shit like #OnThatGrind and #DoItForTheHustle, but you mostly adore his wallet. Since meeting this guy, your Pinterest game has gone from hipster Urban Outfitter room décor to an entire board dedicated to Kris Jenner’s living room. He may unofficially officially constitute as a sugar daddy, but like, if he’s picking up the tab, count me in.
The Self-Described Personal Trainer
Quick Q: Are you bored? Do you, like, hate your life? Yeah, sure, this guy is hot and in shape and can possibly get you a 3-day trial pass to Equinox, but now you’re punishing us (your true friends) for like, wanting to maintain your summer body or whatever. It’s like you find pure joy in trying to make us all feel bad when you showed up to brunch last weekend only to opt out of the “bottomless” option. Like, huh? And to top it all off, you’ve now become the type of betch who literally won’t shut the fuck up about your new free personal trainer and how you crushed your latest workout. Honestly though, I’ll let this slide because once you realize you literally have nothing in common and that he just gave you the ‘eye’ for eating three fries, I’ll be ready with a bloody in hand.
The One You Hooked Up With in College
Look, betches aren’t perfect (but we’re pretty fucking close). But if there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s lowering our standards for a good cause. Like dick. Ok, so I low-key just described myself because, for some reason, I live for recycling hookups, but there must be someone else out there as into used goods as I am, right? Basically, here’s the deal. I’m a fucking good time, but mostly I just have chronic FOMO, and I can’t help it. The idiot from college is still impressed because I’m a successful (?) journalist, only gained like 12 lbs post-college, and I’m always down to schedule a blackout at approx. 10 p.m. In turn, he is forced offers to pay for my drinks, I get drunk and horny, and it’s a win for all, especially me, because that minor lapse in judgment didn’t cost me an increase in my number or a decrease in my (barely-there) dignity. I love me.
The One Who Surfs, Brah
This guy is like, the gateway into the fuckboy kingdom. Thankfully you don’t have to worry him eyeing other girls, but that’s only because his brain is full of contaminated salt water and his boy band blonde-tourage doesn’t leave his side until the tide comes in. It takes a special type of girl to tolerate this guy – you know, like a girl who also doesn’t care (is that even a thing?). This betch’s Instagram is full of photography and she judges every girl for wearing makeup to the beach (fucking sue me). But she’s also like naturally tan and has a good body without even trying, so I can’t hate her that much.
The Wearing a RompHim As A “Joke”
This guy is always the life of the party, so, I mean, this betch did something right. On the other hand, this guy still thinks that wearing pastel RompHims are like, fucking hilarious, and for some reason I’ll never understand, she eats that shit up. They generally manage to give everyone at the party a raging migraine, partially because of their incessant need to be the center of attention, but also because of that pastel ensemble mixed with last season Birkenstocks… and I’m not talking about her. The type of betch who lives for this annoying af dude is also on a constant blackout state from Friday to Sunday, but like same. Wait, am I talking about me again?
READ: The 9 Types Of Fuckboys You’ll Unfortunately Have Sex With Before You Die
Yes, sadly, we’re more than halfway through summer. I know, I know, that’s a fucking bummer to think about. The impending end to Summer ’17 isn’t all you need to be mulling over right now. In fact, you probably have a summer fling, hook up, smang buddy, etc. that you need to decide if you should keep around past August. If you’ve already decided that Jake or Ryan or Matt or Nick or whoever will look good in a ski outfit and could probably impress your parents at Christmas, then you have decided to get moving on the cuff. Because if you’re going to commit yourself it needs to last at least six months, really. So what next? How to you turn the best non-committal sex of your life into the best actually-committed kind? Like all important decisions involving another person, don’t just come out and say it. Gross. Manipulate the situation so sneakily that he doesn’t even see it coming.
Drop Hints.
You need to make sure that he’s actually down so you don’t embarrass yourself when it comes time to DTR. If he’s said a million times he doesn’t want a girlfriend, guess what bitch, he probably doesn’t want a girlfriend. Unlike us, men are simple creatures and often just blurt out what they’re really feeling. So if he’s not actively telling you it isn’t going to happen, drop a few hints that you could see yourself dating him past the summer. Mention activities you’d like to do in the fall. Talk about seeing a football game together. Ask how he feels about corn mazes. That kind of shit. If he’s down to make plans with you for Halloween, he’s probably down to keep whatever you two have going.
Put Him In Situations Where He Has To Introduce You.
OK this might seem like a stretch, but try to get him in situations where introductions are necessary. You could avoid the DTR altogether if he starts introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. Crisis adverted. The whole goal of this is to get him to think your relationship is his idea. Dudes love when they come up with shit on their own. Also, this can work the other way. If you introduce him to someone, don’t give him a title, just say his name and kind of trail off. See if he jumps in with the “I’m her boyfriend” comment.
Don’t Bring Up The Fact Summer Is Ending.
If you’ve been hanging out with a dude all summer and things are going well, but you don’t want to rock the boat with just how great things are going, maybe just don’t mention your desire to get wifed-up by September. Ya know, sometimes you should just let sleeping dogs lie, or, in this case, let him think you’re the most chill and not going to pressure him. I’m pretty sure everyone hates being nagged at or pressured, so if you like what you have going and don’t care about the label, just let it be. If it’s really meant to be, it’ll be. Likewise, if you’re thirsty for a boyfriend and he doesn’t want to be your boyfriend, you should seriously move on to someone who deserves does. Duh.
DTR.
If all else fails, and you’re not down with the casual transition from FWBs to full on dating, I guess you should probably define that mother-fuckin relationship. Like, in order to not embarrass yourself, make sure you’re like 99% sure he’s also down to keep things rolling past summer fling status. Then, I guess you need to just bite the bullet and ask, “Hey, what are we?” OR, if you’re real ambition, you could just tell him he’s your boyfriend. You know, like that pirate guy in Captain Phillips, but instead of “I am the captain now” it’s like, “I am your girlfriend now.” Totally no chance of that ever backfiring.
