As we’re dating experts at Professional Moron (check out our Agony Aunt feature), we’re taking a look at a new craze.

It involves this thing: softbois (or softboys). Initially we were dismissive of it, but on closer inspection this is just another ridiculous way for geezers to get into non-geezers’ collective pants. Beware!

Softbois

As snowflake Guardian newspaper readers, we came across this in an article. It highlighted the above smash hit Instagram account—the lady is from Manchester. Huzzah!

It’s called beam_me_up_softboi.

What her account documents, along with the wider world, is this softboi thing. Basically, as glorious as it is, the term “fuckboy” arrived a while back to denote a type of human male out for one thing only.

This individual will be explicit in his push for sex across dating sites etc. He’ll typically use “lol” a lot to cover off his inability to hold a conversation. But this is the type of guy who loves sending dick pics to anyone and everyone.

Softbois arrived as an evolved form of fuckboys. It’s a reaction to the relentless negative press to the latter.

Yet as with our recent covert narcissistic personality disorder post, this is a pernicious issue far worse than anything yet.

It involves blokes pretending to be thoughtful, considerate, and in touch with their emotions. Typical habits will include:

• Going well out of their way to claim they’re a feminist.
• Going well out of their way to claim they love literature.
• Indulging in creative projects, primarily writing (with lots of poetry).
• Proclaiming they’re “fucked up” at every opportunity (to push the damaged genius image).
• Presuming they’re more intelligent than everyone.
• Actually putting in the effort to behave like a half-decent person, before abandoning that after they’ve slept with whomever they were pursuing.
• Hating “normies” (as in, anyone who isn’t “fucked up”).
• Proclaiming they’re “not like other guys”—this can make some women think they’ve found a winner, as opposed to yet another fuckboy.
• Using… ellipsis… always… for… dramatic… impact—part of the whole pretentiousness stuff.
• Being a fan of the band Tame Impala.

Now, just to be clear. We know sod all about this. We’re useless at flirting (a tremendous fillip for our agony aunt bit). We have no idea what we’re doing.

Our process is helped enormously by the wonderful Billy Connolly’s assessment on his inabilities right here.

But it’s as if the modern male, eager to get his end away, views the online world as a playing field.

At surface glance, this will come across as someone who’s just a nice, progressive bloke.

Or a bit of a twat—however they play it, really, depends on intelligence levels.

They often learn the most basic level of a topic to have a surface understanding of it, then use that to pretend to be an expert.

One common tactic is to have a copy of Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex. They’ll carry that around with them everywhere, know a few choice quotes from it, but they won’t have read the thing.

All whilst listening to Tame Impala. Because that is the softboi band of choice.

It’ll be interesting to see how this evolves in future, now women are aware of the softboi issue.

These blokes will have to adapt it in some way. Or, you know… maybe just be yourself?

Instead of aiming for sex try to just think you’ll be happier long-term if you’re with someone you get on with. Non?

How to Softboi

For any sotbois reading this, we know a thing or two about literature. And if you want a date with our esteemed editor (Mr. Wapojif)? Sadly, he’s currently dating a turnip.

Thusly, below is a template message you can bombard human females with on dating sites.

Hello luminescent fictive lady of excellence. 

Today I realised... I am fucked up. Nurture of the land, I read Bukowski and stared at the dew... it dazzled... upon... the grass.

I let rip with mighty flatulence and then... epiphany. Of any, you, your profile... the most unholy light. 

If you're not normative. If you understand when I say to you, "qualia", then you and I shall combobulate on a level that refrains from the normative stain of existence.

As I write, I am also writing an essay or normativism and how it relates to feminism (I can quote, verbatim, every single woman virtue) and how I am a feministic virtue. 

Great tits by the way, love. Please find, attached, a dick pic (yes that's really me). 

May the blossoms of my virtue embrace within the sinue of feministic-based purification.