PSALMS OF DEPRIVATION

Fifteen: "UNDERCOVER FUCK BOY"

"I want the way I dress on the outside to represent who I am on the inside," I replied. "Next time I try and get a broad's number I'll make sure to change into my fuck boy costume beforehand." That's when the lightbulb clicked on. For once I came up with a bright idea, so I thought.

"You interested in making another bet?" I asked Jerney.

"It depends. What is it?"

"I bet you, if I dress up like a fuck boy and go out to a bar, that I can get some pussy."

"Hmmm. Okay...How much are you thinking?"

"Let's make it three-hundred bucks."

"Three-hundred bucks?! I don't know about all that."

"Come on, I'd be going through a complete transformation. That's a lot of work. The money needs to be worth the effort." She thought about it for a minute.

"Okay. Deal. You dress up like a fuck boy, go out to a bar and end up getting pussy, and I'll pay you three-hundred bucks."

"Bet," I replied. We shook hands to make it official.

"Be prepared to lose, Bud. Fixing the visual only goes so far. Your personality is bound to get in the way at some point."

"We'll see about that," I replied.

I knew right away that I was going to need some help. I called up a friend of mine, RyDiddyBop. While not a fuck boy himself he was the closest person I knew who had any kind of fashion sense. He had style but went about it modestly. He dressed in nice shit because he genuinely liked the clothes. The "fuck boy" was different and much more shallow. There was an agenda present in them, the main one being pussy. They needed to rely on their appearance in order to make up for what they lacked personality wise. Face value was the only thing that had value.

"So what should we do bro? The fate of this social experiment is in your hands," I told RyDiddyBop.

"Well, from the rip, you're going to need a whole new outfit," he replied.

"Yeah, I figured that."

"Once we knock that out we'll have to do something about the hair."

"The hair? I thought bitches liked guys with long hair. I always looked at that as an asset."

"A lot of bitches do. But they like guys who wash and comb their shit from time to time."

"Ahhh, okay. A hygiene thing. I can fix that."

"Then the last thing would probably be some jewelry. A watch or a chain, nothing too crazy. Just something you can use to up the flex a little more. I can ask my brother if we can borrow something of his."

"Okay. You know of any hip, fancy clothing stores we could go to?" I asked.

"Yup. I know just the place," he replied.

RyDiddyBop ended up taking me to this place called "Flex On Nex". This is where I was going to pick out my costume...I mean outfit. I immediately felt like an outsider. The first thing I noticed upon entering was how bad the music was. It sounded like some chopped up hip-hop beat having a seizure after overdosing on Molly. The other thing that caught my attention was the brand of people, especially the ones who worked there. They had an all female staff with the exception of one gay man. They were all flamboyant, stylistically. Real flashy, even borderline attention seeking. Manufactured individuality I like to call it. They all seemed to be going for their own look but only knew how to go about it in the same way. You really had to put a lot of thought and effort into dressing in this fashion. And that was the part I didn't understand. People wasted too much energy on being contrived.