the softboy now monetizes himself on substack

an ode to how your average lonely boi wants you to commodify his sadness

The Substack Softboy, in his current form, has a thousand person following. His Paid Subscriptions are sacred; they’re where he unleashes the most of his sadboy poetry. His free content is ironically more artful than the shit you pay $8/month for.

The Softboy does not take dating seriously anymore. He doesn’t have time for that. He has to maintain the parasocial relationships he’s making with women on the Internet. His most recent heartbreak was because a girl he wanted to date turned out to be a fellow dude with an anime anon profile pic who was trying to make it big too. He wrote about this guy sadly; it’s only a matter of time before the scathing response emerges, or he paywalls the original.

The Softboy talks to you at the party, but really because he wants to find out if you’d be worth writing about on his Substack. He asks you to get coffee, but mostly because he needs to do some vital research on the punk rock scene in Brooklyn and you have an in. You’re based in Los Angeles usually, but he says that your vibe is close enough that he can tweak this for artistic liberties.

He discusses his ex-girlfriend as a reference point in his writing. His “lore,” as he calls it. He uses the story of the breakup as his pitch for why the world needs to solve heterofatalism by people creating more intra-gender support groups. He wants to be published in a literary magazine. Instead, he’s pitched for a volunteer "writer’s festival” that pays in exposure by a magazine with 8,000 followers. No thanks, the Softboy says. He’s about to break 12K — he wants to isolate for a bit to focus on his artistic side.

The Softboy uses Instagram to post pictures that aren’t “simp bait,” exactly, mostly because he always has the same unflattering angle with his disheveled hair and wire-frame glasses halfway off his nose. He says it makes him look taller. It probably does. The posts usually are carousels with random buildings he gazes at while on his travels.

People follow him to see where he’s hanging out next Friday night. He likes to post cryptic stories about this. He’ll then tweet some hot take that’s not really that good, and really just talk, and very misinformed, but it’s okay because people will Like it because they want him to write more weird things about it so they can shit talk it over morning brunch on Saturday.

The Softboy is multi-racial now. He’s not just white; he could also be Indian, or Asian, or black. In today’s age, anyone can be annoying as hell to read but whom you can’t bear to stop following.

The Fuckboy is too busy “fucking” to have time to write about his feelings about it. The Softboy alienated all of his platonic female friends months ago after he wouldn’t shut the hell up about Janet setting boundaries with him because they hooked up a few times but she realized too late that he can’t commit right now, or wondering why he keeps going back to Alexa when Mary was his one true love. The Softboy has many admirers; but he remains in denial about it because he’s not like the other dudes. If he was, he would run out of content.

He started writing instead. Mostly about his lifestyle. But not because he’s an influencer; that’s different okay.

Sometimes he has an interesting political take, which is quickly ruined when you realize he doesn’t have much else to say about it. Sometimes he links you to a better Substack, but which is sadly more barren because the Softboy brand has taken up more real estate at Substack.

The Softboy believes narcissism is “just a phase.” He insists that everyone should get their art out there! He doesn’t press subscribe when his followers send them their Substacks in the hopes that this nice guy promotes them.

The Softboy does not need real friends. He believes he’s living a popular, fulfilled life because some people out there think he’s interesting. God forbid they ever have a real conversation with him — they’d find out he’s even better than their wildest dreams, because he’s humble and thoughtful and whoops forgot to pick up the tab on your coffee date when you tried to pick his brain about growing your following.

He hasn’t texted you back for a reason; he was too busy looking up the new way Substack is using the Subscriber Chat now. He was also not paying attention when you subtweeted about it, because he has better things to do, he tells you 2 weeks later. Oh, that wasn’t about me? That was about some other Softboy? Whoops.

Long live the Softboy. May he continue to be the best thing about this platform.