My Love Affair with Fuckboys

My toxic obsession…

I remember my 20s like it was yesterday.

Nights filled with loud music, the thud of liquor bottles against my body as I slung drinks behind the bar. I met new people every single night, and life was… exciting, to say the least. The faster I made bartending tips, the faster I spent them. I was carefree, reckless, and gave zero fucks. Blindly optimistic a trait I still carry to this day.

Some nights I’d walk away with $3,000 in tips, other nights? Zero dollars, zero cents, and a hangover. Bartending was a gamble, but it made me feel like I was my own boss.

And then, of course, there were the men. Endless options. I had zero interest in a monogamous relationship in my 20s. I craved new adventures, and I knew I had choices. Meeting men felt like a sport, I friend-zoned most of them, but I loved the attention. But the ones who really hooked me? Toxic.

Emotionally unavailable men were my poison of choice. The guy who adored me in person and ghosted me the second I left the room? That’s the one I wanted. It was a challenge, and I lived for the chase.

I remember the exact night I met the most toxic man of them all. The one who was my kryptonite…