White Girls Guide to: Fuckbois
WORDS BY ELAINE JACKSON
Ah, Fuckbois. We all hate them, but somehow, we can’t live without them. You know the guys I mean. The ones who only hit you up on a Saturday night at 2am asking if “u up?”. The ones who brag about how much they don’t study for their INGS degree, but somehow always get HD’s. The ones whose idea of a conversation is playing 20 questions over Snapchat, and immediately asking how many guys you’ve hooked up with. Trust me, I know fuckbois. And it’s up to me to let all my fellow white girls know how to avoid one — and it’s harder than you avoiding your growing pile of essays and readings this semester.
So, What Makes a Fuckboi?
I know what you’re thinking – the worst fuckbois are the ones in Parliament. And yes, while that’s very true, university-aged, Sydney-Uni-attending fuckbois are a close second. Here’s how to pick one out of a crowd: if you tick yes to three or more of the following, your dude’s a fuckboi.
- He plays basketball, or rugby, or cricket, or baseball… Any sport with balls, really.
- He wears Nike socks with Adidas slides. I mean, c’mon.
- He only wears suits with bike helmets and cross-body satchels, sometimes with a Union Board campaign t-shirt over the top.
- He brags about how much better the coffee is at Tripod on the Redfern Run, even though he lives at college.
- He asks for nudes after five minutes of very dry conversation.
- He has a seemingly important job that his dad clearly got him.
- He tells you about his gym sessions so often, you know his workouts by heart.
- His way of flirting is to tell you you’re *not like other girls*
- He only wears either R.M. Williams boots and boat shoes, or has a sneaker collection that costs more than your degree.
- He mansplains feminism to you.
This list, while brief, encompasses a range of trait’s I have personally seen in fuckbois. I’ll be the first to admit: it doesn’t capture everything. Some fuckbois are sneakier than your deadlines creeping up on you. So, take the list and add to it as you navigate your way through the fuckbois of USyd.
But He Seems So Nice!?!
Sweetie, we’ve all been there. You meet a nice guy at a Sunday Session at the Ivy, he gets your number, and it seems like you hit it off. You keep talking, he asks for your Instagram, then your Snapchat, and then all of a sudden, BAM. A dick pic. I mean, really? What am I meant to do with that? Don’t let his smooth talk fool you: he’s a fuckboi. Were there signs? Who knows.
But that’s the game that fuckbois play. They’ll treat you well(-ish), maybe get you a coffee or two at Ralph’s even though it’s well out of your way to class, and always vote in your Instagram polls about tanning or studying (somehow, he always votes for tanning…). It’s a sneaky, slippery slope to heartbreak. One day, you’re at Ralphs’ sipping a free mocha, and the next, you’re crying into a tub of Ben and Jerry’s wondering when a nice guy will come along. It’s ok, we’ve all been there.
OK, So How Do I Avoid A Fuckboi?
I won’t lie: avoiding fuckbois is surprisingly difficult. Fuckbois are master manipulators and more slippery than your grasp on reality after a ‘due today, do today’ cram session. Here are my top tips to help you avoid them.
Recall how we spot fuckbois. It’s not just an aesthetic, it’s a way of life. So, if you see a guy in Nike socks and Adidas slides mansplaining feminism in a Gender Studies class, he’s a fuckboi. Spotted a guy in a Ralph Lauren shirt, chinos, and RM Williams boots loudly bragging in Taste about his workload at his paralegal job? Fuckboi. The guy outside Ralph’s café who looks as if he hasn’t showered in a week or two, loudly discussing his weekend cricket success? You guessed it, he’s a fuckboi. It takes practise, but trust me: after your first rodeo, a basic fuckboi is nothing.
Another pro-tip? Flip the switch on them, and channel your inner fuckgirl. Listen to a lot of Beyoncé (or Nicki Minaj, or Cardi B, or any badass female musician), swipe on some red lipstick, and buy your own damn drink. Trust me, fuckbois don’t know how to handle a woman who taps her own card at the bar.
My last pro-tip is simple: use all your experience as lessons. There’s no changing the past, and you can’t let one fuckboi ruin your life. TBH, fuckbois are about as relevant as last season’s Gucci belts in 2018. Yeah, I said it. So, learn from your mistakes, take them on as life lessons, and try your best to avoid repeating them. Get out there with the girls, have a boogie on the DF at your Sunday Session, and buy your own goddamn drinks. I’ll see you there!