Dear Arab F*ck Boys,
We don’t blame ourselves for the situation we were put in. We don’t blame ourselves for the heartbreak, we don’t even really blame you for that. You played all your cards right, you made the effort, made us laugh, offered the compliments, made us feel some type of way but then you went from the man we were swooning over to the boy who was f*cking us over.
It’s not our fault at all. It’s not our fault we didn’t realize what type of person you really were, masked by your so called mysterious past and jaded ways. We came to realize at the end that you’re not complicated at all, you’re merely a weak being with no sense awareness nor responsibility for your actions. The repercussions you were indebted to have either never been put upon you or you simply have no remorse for your (for a lack of better words) asshole tendencies.
You were sweet in the beginning, I mean you had to have been in order to convince us to have an interest and whether it was hesitant or blindly, we decided to give you a chance. Needless to say your true colors bled through and your facade was exposed vividly. While we challenged your bullshit as anyone would, you pushed back with excuses. You strung us along excuse after excuse “It’s not a good time for me…it’s complicated…it’s not that I don’t want to be with you.” But we’ve evolved as lovers, we know better than that. We know the plain truth you’re merely a coward, and your excuses are only proof that you’re not man, you’re a boy…a f*ck boy to be exact.
Don’t attempt to deny it, don’t try to kid yourself let alone us in believing you’re different. Don’t pity yourself in thinking you’re the nice guy that finishes last. You are clearly and inevitably a f*ck boy. You’ve relished in your conquests, you’ve bragged to you’re boys about how you played us, and we can see exactly why you would. Whether you reached the point of regret or not, we know that in the end you played yourself, you screwed up not us.
So how do we feel after you ‘played us’? We feel bad. We feel really bad for you. At the end of the day, the only mistake we made is we fell for the wrong guy, the ‘I’m not ready’ guy. An innocent mistake. We’re not worried, we know one day we’re going to meet a guy who can recognize a real woman and genuinely appreciate and most importantly respect her. We’re not going to allow you to make us bitter towards every man we meet because we know better, we know not every man we meet is really just a boy in disguise.
We’re not mad at you, we’re not resentful, and we most certainly don’t hate you. If anything we actually feel sorry for you. We feel bad that you feel the need to block yourself from actually feeling something. We feel bad that you might’ve fell into your current ways because you were once screwed over by a f*ck girl.
We weren’t fantasizing about our wedding, we weren’t thinking of names for our future children, and we we’re most definitely not trying to introduce to anyone important for approval. We wanted something from you and you couldn’t deliver on that. You couldn’t give us the minimal forms of dedication – no loyalty, no exclusivity, no commitment, you just couldn’t give us any part you. You couldn’t give us anything not because you don’t have the desire to, you can’t simply because you’re afraid.
While it was shitty situation nonetheless, we don’t necessarily regret it. We did nothing wrong but go into the situation with pure intentions as any person open to the idea of affection would. We did nothing wrong, you didn’t do anything wrong, to us at least. We didn’t lose, we were spared elongated agony, you on the other hand lost. You lost the opportunity to be a part of something more, something deeper; ultimately you lost the opportunity to be cared for and loved. For that we don’t wish you the best f*ck boy, we wish that you realize your way of going about life can potentially hurt someone but in the end the only person who you’re truly f*cking is yourself, and for that we pity you.
The one you let get away
Originally published on Scoop Empire April 18, 2016