
The long answer is: if the fuckboy fucks around long enough, he eventually fallsāand even then, itās complicated. No matter how much he fights and wrestles with it, if itās powerful enough, it will roll even her under the waves. The fuckboy who is accustomed to riding the wave realizes that if heās gonna wipe out in love, heāll do it with as much grace as he canāslowly, cautiously, tenderly, contemplativelyābecause thatās how she vibes.
Falling in love with a fuckboy can be more torturous than falling in love with a āgood boyā (or any guy).
Good boys are built for it, and they wrap their identity and existence around it. They live for you; they make it easy for you, fuckboys donāt.
A fuckboy does the opposite: since his limbic system has a fast lane (sensation/sex) and a slow lane (emotions), heās grabbing the āoh shit handleā and saying, āShouldnāt we slow down?ā
When you picture a fuckboy falling in love, imagine a sloth who is also a moody bitch. Obviously, youād prefer a puppy dog jumping all over you, tongue hanging out, tail waggingāand thatās just not him.
The fuckboy bandwidth for real, deep, true love happens so slowly for him that heās expanding to hold it as heās feeling it. Itās as if heās a fish who saw the most beautiful birdāand he canāt evolve and grow wings fast enough for you. Frankly, heās also pissed off at you for yanking him from his comfort zone and making him feel such insane things. For making him think of himself in a different life.
The description sounds at lot like myself. But I’m not “FUCKBOY” as you say.I’m slow to love because I’ve been burned so many times previously.
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