Yes, the ghost of Fuckboys Past came back for one final spook.
I’ll call him Casper.
If you can remember from my blog, The FUCKBOY Pandemic, I fell in love at first sight with Casper on the dancefloor of my favourite club in the summer of 2022. Sign of a lack of boundaries? Not really, I didn’t get out of control about it. I never even told him. I found it wild to be able to feel that connection with someone so fast. Isn’t there something beautiful about that feeling? Just don’t get weird and obsessive about it.
Anyway, Casper broke up with me after three months due to him fearing commitment and the pain of what he described as an inevitable breakup in the future - the sort of attitude no one needs to hear from a love interest. Cheers boo. So I decided to stay away from my local haunt in order to avoid running into him. He's in that club religiously every weekend, so the chances of meeting him were sky-high.
Fast forward five months later, when I was fully healed from the breakup. I was cycling home from work one day when he popped into my head. I delightfully noted that it was the first time in weeks I had thought about him. "Success! New Year, New Me!!".
The time had come to return to my beloved mecca.
It was a Friday night in January, the place was as I had left it; smokey, sweaty, and full of men. How I missed my local sausage fest. And as sure as night follows day, who doth appear through the smokey mist on the dancefloor like a contestant from Stars in their Eyes, only the man himself. “Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be…the same Fuckboy I’ve always been!”
Lads, I'm not exaggerating when I say he was all over me like a rash. We danced together and he told me he missed me. But my heart didn't skip a beat with hope and excitement. The angelic glow I used to imagine around him was now non-existent, and the sparks from our past were fully extinguished. As he held my hand and kissed my cheek, I almost felt like saying to him “I told you so!”. I knew he would be back, it was only a matter of time before he realised that he made a foolish mistake. When he asked me if I missed him, I told him I didn’t (a personal win for me). Once I'm over someone, I'm quite good at not being fooled twice. But in the same breath, I’m about to admit that we woke up in the morning together. But I was fully in control of my emotions so I knew I wasn’t playing with fire.
He was his sweet, kind self and before he left he thanked me for a lovely night, giving me a big kiss as he opened the front door. As I closed it behind him, I laughed at how funny life can be. I didn't overthink the situation, rather accepting that it was a pleasant evening and I was very glad I wouldn’t have to worry about being awkward bumping into him again.
But as the days went by, I was genuinely curious as to how he was feeling about the situation. Knowing he wouldn't get in touch first, I phoned him. When he answered, I was taken aback by his attitude. He was monotone, rude, and dismissive of the night. A far cry from his bubbly, complementing, loving attitude two nights before. I wasn’t expecting him to confess his undying love for me or anything of the sort. But I was expecting a platonic and respectful response from the man who claimed he still missed me. But his attitude stank as bad as the Landwehr canal, so I decided to politely cut the chat short and wished him a nice evening. The man was still a boy, he hadn’t changed and he never will.
But what happened next? He blocked me.
This was the pill I had trouble swallowing. Getting blocked, to me, is like building a wall, a big fuck you to your neighbour. I may have put up a boundary with my imaginary fence, but I hadn’t closed him off entirely. I was willing to be civil when we inevitably meet again in the club. But he sabotaged any chance of that ever happening. I got blocked for doing absolutely nothing wrong and it feels like I’ve been disposed of. As if he has dusted his hands off me.
It took me a hot minute to digest how he had just become a mirror image of his club persona. It's spooky, but I guess that's the standard practice of a well-versed Fuckboy: when you need an intimacy top-up, look for the easy prey, then go back to being the dickhead you were brought up to be.
So there you have it, another Berlin Love Story, Part 2
I believe that things happen for a reason and that there's a lesson in every situation but I questioned what I needed to learn this time. I thought I had buried him with that chapter of my life in 2022, but maybe this was the final nail in the coffin. My ultimate takeaway from this, which I really need to work on, is that I'm a devil for believing that people can change and will be as respectful of my feelings as I am of theirs.
As always, I wanted to share my experience to let people know they are not alone in this disposable dating culture and a reminder that what's important is how we react to this type of bullshit. Don't put someone else's bad behaviour back on you! Below are a few signs to be aware of the next time you think someone may have an avoidant attachment style. I read the book “Attached” by Amir Levine and Rachel S. F. Heller, and I learned so much about myself and the men I’ve dated. It should be on the top of everyone's reading list.
Signs of an Avoidant Attachment style
Trouble showing or feeling their emotions
Refusing help or emotional support from others
Fear that closeness to a partner will cause them to get hurt
Pushing others away when they get close or show a desire for closeness
Lack of emotional closeness in relationships
Good luck out there!
Love Lulu x