Everyone Calls Me a F-Boy. I Deserve It. But I Refuse to Stop Breaking People’s Hearts.

Pillow Talk is a series that deciphers our mixed signals about sex—who’s actually having it, who isn’t, and why—one interview at a time. Get in touch to suggest a subject.

This week, we meet Will, a 38-year-old in Southern California who is often accused of being a fuckboy. Though he used to get away with it when he was younger, his friends now think his marauding behavior is kind of sad. He does not agree. If anything, he’s only getting fuck-ier—if only to soothe his broken heart. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Slate: You self-identify as a “fuckboy.” What does that word mean to you?

Will: That’s what people call me! It means that I don’t always want to date the people I have sex with.

To start, I’ve been threatening to date this one girl for like three months. I keep telling her I just need a little more time before we get more serious, and in the meantime, she’s turned away several other much more serious dudes. She’s hot, and I like keeping her wrapped around my finger. Earlier this year, I went on six dates in one week, and told none of those women I was seeing other people. That’s pretty common for me. I’ve cheated on most of my girlfriends. I’ve even led a few guys on, just because it’s fun to make them want me. I’m an expert at what the kids call “love-bombing.” I know just what to say to people to make them feel special, and at least for a while, I genuinely think they are. Then I surprise them—and myself, sometimes—by losing interest. I never ghost—I always break up with them, or at least try to communicate my feelings—but I have been known to reappear and slide back into their lives again. That seems to piss people off.

A few weeks ago, they sat me down and tried to talk to me about it. They said I really needed to stop leading people on, and that they wish I’d find a “real relationship.” They thought it was sad that I’m so “afraid of commitment.”

I genuinely appreciated the concern, and it came from a place of love. But for me, happiness isn’t necessarily being in a relationship.

Several. They generally only last a few months, though. The longest one was three years, off and on. I think I stayed with her for so long because the relationship was rocky and uncertain. We were always breaking up, or on the verge of breaking up. It kept things interesting.

I don’t dislike it, I just seem to find myself in more dramatic situations. Like recently, a married woman left her husband for me. Then I started dating her friend.

The spark just fizzled. I wanted her when I couldn’t have her, and then when I could, the stakes felt too big. I felt responsible for ending her marriage, and then I felt trapped, like she had to be with me because she left him in this way. It felt like I was saddled with the burden of her, rather than that we had simply chosen to be together. Her friend was more casual, which I liked. She didn’t really need me, nor did she particularly care about keeping me, and that kept me around. I liked that.

Of course. It’s not my intention to hurt people, and I do feel bad when it happens. With the married woman, I obviously took it too far. But at the same time, it’s her life.