What Happens When You Holler Back (Or Why F*ckboys Will Always Be F*ckboys)

This past weekend provided me with yet another male-adventure to scoff at (“How much more can she take?!” They wondered out loud. Not a lot more, guys. Not a lot) and came in the form of a tried and true “holler.”

“What’s a holler?” you ask? Well. Allow me to allow Urban Dictionary to explain:

holla

1. A way for a brotha to say he wants to get in your pants
2. A pimp ass way of saying ‘what up’
3. May be used to end a conversation

In this particular story, I was getting holla’ed by way of #1’s definition. It came out of nowhere (that’s what she said) reasonably early Saturday night, around 9:30pm CST. The opening text was smirk-inducing enough that I took interest.

It almost instantly piqued my interest because a) he’s tried to holler within the last 6 months and I wasn’t feeling it, yet here he was, hollering again and b) I hadn’t seen him in a full calendar year and then some. Also, he caught me at a good (read: vulnerable) moment, which always helps a fuckboy’s cause. He must’ve smelled the vulnerability — them fuckboys got that next level hyperosmia when it comes to vulnerable bitches.

So, I bit. He told me where he was, what his next locale would be, if I wanted to meet there, and to text him when I was arriving. Easy enough. I was feeling good about this decision — a solid, no strings attached sesh with a been-there-done-that-but-would-def-do-it-again-tho.

He lets me know they’re arriving as I leave my current venue, park my car at home, and call an Uber. I let him know Nagib (yeah, idk either) is on his way and the bar is just a few minutes from my house. By the time I get in the Uber, he hasn’t replied. I text him that I’m approaching. No reply. I ask where he is inside as it’s a busy bar and I know it’s going to be crowded as all fuck. No reply. I get out of my Uber, walk up, get my ID checked, walk inside, and he still hasn’t texted back.

As a hollerree, I’m not about to go hunting for this guy in this packed beyond manageability scene. He’s the dehydrated one who hollered (AND I SAID YES), so why isn’t he at the ready with phone in hand? The bar is swarming with people, so I decide to stay put and wait to hear from him, standing at the front near the door in the corner, more or less.

2 minutes go by.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
7 minutes I’ve been there now, and a total of 20 minutes since I got in the Uber and texted him throughout my journey.
 
Why THE FUCK is this guy NOT checking his phone? I tried, too.

Nada. Nothing. Still no response. So I chucked deuces and left. Walked out, got yet another Uber (not Nagib though unfortunately), and went home. Like, yeah — I want it but not THAT bad. Not bad enough to be lured into a past fuckboy’s lair then fuckboyed before I even fuck the fuckboy. As Bey would say NAH NAH HELL NAH.

And the best part? He didn’t text me back for an additional 10 minutes after I left. So I would’ve been standing up there for 10 MORE GD MINUTES, MAKING THAT A TOTAL OF 20 GD MINUTES.

Hold up. This is 2017. Your phone’s on silent??? I mean SAME. It ALWAYS is. But it’s also always on my person, in my pocket, or in my hand. You hollered at my vagina, it’s here, and you’re not watching your phone like a hawk to receive me? Again, NAH. And sure, maybe he was super plastered and being an idiot. Those chances are high in these situations. But still. BUT👏🏻STILL👏🏻

He apologized a bit more then said we’d do something Sunday (the next day) and reiterated it twice. I was all “yeah sure I’m game!” but really I was like

🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄 🙄

And guess what? Never heard from him. Still haven’t. And this, ladies (and gents), is why YOU👏🏻DON’T👏🏻HOLLER👏🏻BACK👏🏻AT👏🏻FUCK👏🏻BOYS. Once a fuckboy, always a fuckboy. I knew this, and I’m better than this. But, like I said, your girl was jonesing and got hit up at the exact right moment. Lesson learned though. LES👏🏻SON👏🏻LEARNED👏🏻.

Chances are too that he’s reading this or has read it or will read it because back when I wrote about another incident involving him last year, he made sure to “like” it so I knew that he knew it was about him. So in that case, HI! And thank you for providing me with yet another entertaining fail to write about. I don’t doubt your intentions were kinda sorta in the right place, but I can’t be waiting on no D. You can respect that, right?

Tomorrow is Friday, so everyone have a great weekend and just say NAH to fuckyboys.

xox,