…And that is what I wish I said this weekend. The title of this piece is what I wish I said to the guy who called me “broke” this weekend. Specifically, he said, “Hope you stay broke. Good bye.”
If I could choose the Word of 2016, it would be “fuckboy.” I cannot express how many times I have encountered guys who have gone above and beyond just being an asshole. They are the ultimate, 5 star, Grade A jerks. The Era of the Fuckboy is the 2016 dating scene, unfortunately. There are many definitions of a fuckboy on Urban Dictionary in case you fortunately haven’t come across one yet. For me, it seems like I wear a sign on my head that says “fuckboys welcome,” or carry a scent that has them running to me from miles away.
You know that quote, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Well, sometimes, I really wish someone would just throw a pile of rocks at me. Sometimes I wish someone would hit me with a freakin’ tree branch. Because after the initial pain you go through, icing the scar and resting in bed, you get up and move on. Bruises fade, bleeding stops, and scars heal. When someone says something that attacks you personally, the words don’t expire like the pain of a bruise. These words replay themselves in your head until you can’t cry anymore. They circulate your mind in the morning, afternoon, and night. They make you question your worth and everything you’ve ever felt confident about. I’ve become stronger about not caring what others think about me, but some insults are always harder to shake than others. If this guy called me ugly, a slut, or even a whore, I don’t think I would feel as upset and choose to leave the bar that night. But what he said about me being “broke” felt like slow stab to my heart. It felt like a stab to my career, my work ethic, and my lifestyle. I admire how hard I work everyday, and it’s actually something I’ve grown to become confident with after years of struggling with self-esteem. So the fact that this boy insulted me in this manner, this really fucking hurt.
Yes, I was drinking at the time and emotions are always heightened with the addition of a gin and tonic (or three), but I know this would hurt me whether sober or drunk. No one has ever called me this before, and frankly, I think the opposite compared to a lot of people I know. I don’t want to justify myself too much here since I know I have nothing to prove, but that is what I have been doing for the past 3 days. I kept saying to myself, “Kelcey, you live in Astoria paying over $1200 for rent, work in Manhattan for a billion-dollar company, have a ton of friends across the country, etc. Don’t listen to this guy. You’re doing great!” So yes, compared to the rest of America, I feel like I’m actually doing really well for myself! But no, I guess I am broke to this boy because of what I have. Since I don’t have a Maserati like him, since I don’t have a full-time maid like he does, since I don’t have a watch worth $20,000, since I don’t spend $1,500 at 1Oak each weekened in the city….. I am broke.
It’s Monday afternoon, and he said this to me on Saturday night. I am still recovering from feeling defeated. It’s just hard to believe that someone would say such a thing. You’re probably wondering, “Well, what made him say this?” Oh, you know, just the fact that I didn’t want to date him or be serious with him. So yeah, rejection triggered this boy to attack me in this manner. Because he said that he would leave me alone and I said, “Thank God.” His response after that was to stay broke since apparently that is what I am to him… just some blonde broke girl with no Maserati.
Well, I have some words to you… Maserati boy (in my phone he is blocked, but saved as Maserati Fuckboy). I have never met someone so poor in my life as you. You are so fucking poor that all you have is money. You don’t have an amazing job in the middle of Manhattan like I do with awesome co-workers. You don’t have a family that is closer than ever now after seeing my dad battle with leukemia. You don’t have friends that cuddle with you in bed and tag you in things that remind them of you. You don’t have a degree from a Top 100 university. You don’t have the experience of traveling to Rome, Paris, and London. You don’t have ANY of this. You have a Maserati and a maid and an expensive watch. These are the only things you put on your social media. These are the things you care most about. These are the things that make you the poorest person I know. “Stay broke.”