Once A Fuckboy, Always A Fuckboy

fuckboy theresa.png


I was going to save this particular story for the book but something happened this week that changed the whole narrative and so I feel like I need to write it down, for therapeutic reasons. Some of you will already know a bit about my friend Caramel Dixon because he came to my house and did a few of the Insta lives with me in the early days. His name is not actually Caramel Dixon, obviously, I’d be worried about his Mum if it was, but I asked him what he wanted me to call him on the live shows and that is what he came up with and now it’s sort of stuck. It kind of suits him to be honest. Anyway, lets start at the very beginning of this story. It starts, like many of my other stories do, at Lovebox festival. It was 2015 and I had gone with two of my friends, it was baking hot and the line up was banging, it should have been a good day but it was a bit disastrous because one of my friends was going through a break up and she had drunk an entire bottle of wine to herself alongside shots and cans of cider. I had to stay sober because she was rapidly losing control, at one point she was twerking around a guy in a wheelchair and I could see people getting their phones out. I had to intervene before she went viral, but she was not in the mood to be saved. She was in aggressive drunk mode and it was a fucking nightmare.

We were walking through the crowd and she was slightly behind me when I heard her shouting “Why the fuck are you wearing a mask? Are you trying to scare people you cunt?” I turned around to find her shouting at an innocent man, admittedly he was wearing a pretty creepy black mask, but he didn’t deserve to be called a cunt. Me and my other mate had to run over to diffuse the situation and make sure our friend didn’t get knocked out. It turned out that the guy was wearing a mask to walk through the crowds because he was performing at the festival, he’s well known and was trying to hide his identity so he didn’t get harassed. He was with two friends, Caramel Dixon and his brother, Salted Caramel Dixon. They had come from backstage to have a wander through the festival. Caramel and his brother are both good looking guys and so my friend’s interest turned from the masked celebrity to Caramel’s brother, while Caramel and I began to talk.

Caramel was mixed race, Bajan and Scottish, shorter than my usual type at 5ft 9 but his face was lovely. Light hazel eyes and strong cheekbones. He had a cheeky look about him. He was dressed well too, absolutely sick trainers with shorts, t-shirt and a cap. He was smoking a spliff and he offered me some. My friend had calmed down and we were all talking as a group. Snoop Dogg came on and Caramel grabbed my hand and led me closer to the stage so we could catch his performance. We got on instantly, Caramel was working at a University developing policies and he was a bright, political man with a streetwise side. We spoke about the destruction of the education system by the Tory government and our fears for the NHS. They were mad conversations to be having whilst watching Snoop Doggy Dogg perform but it worked. Our conversation flowed and we were both a bit blown away by meeting someone who could rave whilst also talking on a level. He said “You should probably ask me for my surname because I reckon it’s going to be yours soon”. I was gassed beyond belief.

We walked back to join our friends and the masked man said that he needed to go backstage, Caramel told him that he didn’t want to leave his future wife but they had to and so we exchanged numbers and went our separate ways. I had given my number to a few people over the course of the Lovebox weekend but Caramel was by far the one who I was most excited about. It took him two days to message me and in that time I had been freaking out massively, worrying that I had accidentally given him the wrong number or that he had lost interest now he was sober. He was all I could think about, and when he finally did get in touch that didn’t change. Of course, our conversation was funny and easy. He had me in absolute stitches all the time. I liked him so, so much, and it was obvious that he liked me too. We just fitted, like old friends. I hadn’t met a man who I had liked so much in a long time.

Caramel had just bought a house near mine and he was excited to show it off, he invited me to his for dinner for our first date. I didn’t feel anyway at all about not going out for an official public date,  we had been speaking morning, noon, and night since we had met a week or so prior and so it didn’t feel like he was enticing me there for sex. He made us steak and chips and we had a drink. We tried to watch a movie but we couldn’t stop talking, and laughing, and so the film was just background noise. Caramel’s sense of humor is the exact same as mine. He had me laughing until my stomach ached. I don’t think I have ever met a man who gets me quite as much as Caramel does. I really felt like I could be myself around him, right from the start.

Caramel had told me that he had recently split up from his long term girlfriend. He’s got two daughters from a previous relationship and he didn’t want anymore children, his girlfriend did and in the end it put too much of a strain on their relationship, he was honest with me though that it was very recent and that he wasn’t entirely sure he was over her. That was the only spanner in the works, that information made me feel insecure, but he was very clear that they weren’t together and that he had been blown away by me and so I took him at face value and continued to allow myself to develop feelings for him. Over the next fortnight we were in touch all the time. He lived close and so I was often at his and if we weren’t together we were on the phone. It was like having a new best friend. I fancied the shit out of him but things did not become sexual for a while. We didn’t kiss until the second date but we had so much to say to each other that it was like kissing got in the way of talking and laughing. I wanted things to progress though.

One night in late August he invited me to stay at his, I knew that this would be the night and so I prepped and primed myself to perfection in advance. I was waxed and buffed to within an inch of my life and I was super excited to get into his bed. It all flowed naturally and easily. By this point I was so comfortable with him that I had no qualms about getting naked and putting on a little show for him. He turned me on so much, our foreplay lasted for what felt like hours and he made me climax about ten times before we even got down to having actual sex. He lay on top of me and I held his dick to guide him inside and he stopped me, he perched himself up on his elbows with his penis resting on me and he said:

“I know this is probably not a good time but I feel like I need to be real with you about something. I am not single. I never was. I’m still with my girlfriend, she’s just gone travelling for 2 months”

I tried to push him off me but he stayed put. He told me that everything else was real, his feelings for me, our connection, he had just lied from the start without realising how far things would go and he didn’t know how to tell me the truth.

“So you decide to tell me now?? While I’m naked and your dick is about to enter my vagina? Are you actually mad? ARE YOU ACTUALLY MAD???”

I was so angry, I was shouting at him and hitting him in the chest, and then I cried. I was so incredibly hurt and confused. I still fucked him though. At that moment I wasn’t really thinking about the girl code. I was thinking about this man who I thought was my soul mate  who had managed to fool me for a month into thinking that he was the man I was going to marry when he actually had no intention of even making me his girlfriend. We had the most passionate, angry, deep, emotional sex I have ever had and we continued until the sun came up. I fell asleep in his arms and when I woke up we argued again and I walked out of his with tears streaming down my face. Fuck him, FUCK HIM I thought. What an utter piece of shit.

If I had been the woman who I am now then Caramel would have been deleted and blocked at that moment, but I was not yet Lala, I was still Layla and I had a couple more years of fuckboy experiences ahead of me before my mindset changed and so instead of walking away, I picked up every call he made and replied to every text because he was begging me to hear him out and I really didn’t want to let him go. He told me that I had changed everything for him and instead of running for the hills I was actually desperately hoping that he would end his relationship and get with me. We had only known each other a short time but I could not contemplate not having him in my life. So after a week of begging I agreed to go to his again. I tried to be angry with him but he made me laugh so much that I couldn’t sustain it. We had sex again, on his sofa, but this time it was mechanical and it didn’t feel right. I felt bad about his girlfriend and I could tell that it was playing on both of our minds. So as we sat there after, him rolling a spliff and me trying to sort my hair out we both agreed that this was not OK and that we weren’t going to do it again. But we also agreed that we got on so well that we couldn’t just lose that, he said ‘Do you want to be my best friend?’ and I said ‘OH my God yesss’. And that was it, we never touched each other sexually again, we became proper friends who talk about everything and anything, we tell each other that we love each other regularly, because we do, and he actually helped to change my mentality. He has taught me so much about men and fuckboys. He also reminds me constantly of my worth and he encourages me to aim higher when I tell him about potential wastemen who I am talking to.

It’s nearly 3 years on from when we first met, we see each other at least once a fortnight, and Caramel is no longer with his girlfriend, but because we have now become good friends and I am completely aware of what a massive fuckboy he is I would never even think about getting into something with him again, I was certainly not a one off in terms of his cheating. His friend is a famous artist and he hangs around with him a lot and has his pick of spare groupies, and he takes regular advantage of this, whether single or not. I despise his fuckboy ways and I am constantly trying to help him to do things differently, but his bond with his penis is slightly stronger than his bond with me, although I like to think that I do calm his fuckbuggery down in some ways. Caramel is my friend, one of my best friends in fact, and I feel completely at ease with him. There is no sexual tension between us and since that last mechanical time on his sofa we have not so much as even kissed. If we watch a film together I will lean on his chest or put my legs across him and that has never led either of us to getting over excited. Until last Sunday.

Caramel came over like he always does and we talked and watched a film. I had my legs across him and about midway through the film he started stroking my thigh. Neither of us said anything, we didn’t even look at each other, but my mind was racing because it felt really nice and I was beginning to get fanny flutters and I was not sure how I felt about it. The problem with fanny flutters is that by the time they become full on throbs it is very hard to make sensible decisions. So I started rubbing his dick, through his tracksuit bottoms. We still weren’t looking at each other but Caramel said “I think we should have a drink”. This put a stop to proceedings but he was right, a drink was definitely needed at this point and so I poured us both a massive rum and lemonade and sat back down while we both necked down our strong drinks in silence. The over the clothing stroking resumed and when the film finished Caramel came and lay next to me and started to touch me properly. It felt nice but it was weird because we didn’t kiss. I didn’t want to kiss him and I think he felt the same. It would have been like kissing my brother, I don’t know why I thought that touching my virtual brother’s dick was acceptable, but it seemed less weird than a kiss.

Anyway, things got pretty intense and we were both getting into it when Caramel said “Suck my dick please babe”. It was so unsexy. I told him no and carried on with what we were doing but within 2 minutes he started again “Suck it babe, please”. Again, I told him no and then again, within a minute he asked me to suck it. He started saying that the whole time we’ve been friends he has always sat there thinking about me with his dick in my mouth and he couldn’t hold back any more. I was really pissed off and I told him so. Every time I got annoyed with him about asking he would make light of it and tell me to stop being so serious, and then he would ask me again. I told him to eat my pussy and he laughed and said no. I cannot convey to you how weird and awkward it was, it was like being 15 again, I didn’t really know how to handle the situation because if any other man in the entire world had been doing that I would have demanded that he left my house, but because it was Caramel and I was feeling awkward and I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was joking, or drunk, I didn’t act with the firmness and clarity that I should have.

We continued with our weird no-kissing fumble and he started to enter me, without a condom. It did not feel right, this was not how I wanted to break my celibacy and so after  about 3 seconds I told him to stop but he wouldn’t “At least let me cum man” he was saying, I had to push him off me and so it ended very quickly, without him cumming. I couldn’t believe how he had behaved. I was stressed out and disappointed in myself and him. I told him that I was really unhappy with his behaviour and he started laughing. “Are you a teacher? Are you going to give me detention?” he said in a sarcastic manner. His attitude was horrendous. I asked him when he last had unprotected sex because now I was worried that I would need to get tested and he got up and started dancing and singing “About a week go”. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not and so I asked him again, and again he did the ‘About a week ago’ song and dance. He really seemed to find this all very amusing. He laid back on my sofa and asked me to make him a drink and I told him that he needed to leave. Looking at him laying on my sofa made me feel sick. I felt like I didn’t even know what to say to him. This was Caramel, my best male friend, a man who I thought I could trust, a man who knows my family and my son, a man who had made me feel valued and respected as a human being for nearly 3 years, and now he was in my house acting like a disrespectful little fuckboy and I could not believe it.

He left very soon after and we haven’t spoken since, and I don’t want to. I actually feel like I hate him. I should have never allowed him to start stroking my thigh because it led to something that has now completely ruined our friendship. I knew he was a fuckboy but once I had moved out of potential woman territory into the friend zone I had never expected him to behave that way towards me. But I guess the one inherent thing about all fuckboys is their lack of respect for women, perhaps because his dick was leading his brain I was no longer worthy of his respect and I had just become a potential vessel for him to cum in. Maybe he had felt differently about our friendship and the respect was never as mutual as I had thought it had been. I don’t know, but what I do know is that I am really fucked off about what happened and I am quite devastated that I have lost, what I thought, was a beautiful friendship, over an awkward and pointless fumble. I don’t know what I will do if he ever contacts me again, but I’ve got a feeling that he won’t because it has all just gone so weird. I won’t forgive him for it though, not ever. He knows that I have been trying to avoid men who behave like that and that I have been incredibly strong and anti-fuckboy. He has helped to teach me the red flags and has cheered me on when I have dropped people out after spotting them. For him to come with red flag behaviour and fuckboy treatment is incredibly shitty.

I went though a period over the first few days after it happened where I was really struggling to believe that any men are actually decent, I was pissed off that one of the good ones had actually shown his true colours and had let down my faith in men. And then I snapped out of it and remembered that actually, he was never one of the good ones, from the very start he has always been a massive fuckboy, he had fuckboyed me in the past but because we became friends and I was no longer subject to his fuckbuggery things felt safe. But once a fuckboy, always a fuckboy, and so I guess I should have known better, although that is not to say that a man can’t be a shitty boyfriend to one woman and an amazing husband to another, but that inherent hypersexual/cheating fuckboy mentality is very hard to change without a serious intervention. Our friendship is over, but a lesson has been learned, grim fucking lesson though.

On a brighter note, I have a very interesting date lined up on pancake day which I will tell you all about on the Insta live Valentines special on 14/02/2018, so tune in at 9pm UK time to hear that, and all of the amazingly horrific date/sex stories that you guys have been sending in x


3 thoughts on “Once A Fuckboy, Always A Fuckboy

Add yours

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: