The average Tumblerian and Redditor has spent approximately 525,600 of 2015's minutes documenting the "F**kboi."

He'll Fresh Prince any girl who gives him the time.

He's a creature who whispers sweet nothings to his "main chick' about marriage while teaching his "side girls the different Kama Sutra techniques.

He'll call you sometimes about taking things to a new level, just minutes before hanging up and asking his fling if she knows what a "Hummer" is.

FYI: You can't take a ride in that version.

Let's make something clear before we continue. F**kbois have been around as long as sheepskin condoms.

But until very recently, that behavior wasn't lexiconned into Millennial minds. "F**kboi" has sprung up throughout our generation, so much so, that "National F**kboi" Day" is a trending topic. That word is going down in history, right next to "On-Fleek," "Bae" and "Facts."

Discussions around it got me thinking though. I've heard from quite a few women about Eff-Bois.

But what about from a male perspective?

How do these Bois act when not in the presence of any pretty-looking human with a vulva? This, assuming a square like me who's literally standing right there during their convo-or is a target of it-has a penis, like them, but isn't a F-Boi? Or tries his best not to be one.

I asked myself those questions this past spring-back when I worked for a Manhattan food delivery service. It was lunch break, and all the guys were downstairs shooting the ish. Somehow, these cats sensed something different about me. Something very non f**kboish. Perhaps cause I spoke in a manner they weren't used to. Or because I can spell "onomatopoeia" without having needed to Google that so i could front here like I could actually spell it.

T'was not long before the conversation turned into whether I was in a relationship or not, and how many women I'd "smashed." I assume by that terminology, they weren't referring to the kind using a metal hammer, but rather a more biological one.

"We gotta get you some b***hes, man," one of them told me. He was probably the most aggressive one of the lot, head mastering this entire foray into my personal life.

I tried bringing some decorum to the convo.

"You shouldn't call women bitches like that so casually, man. It's pretty sexist."

"Why?" he responded. "They call us dogs when we're not around."

"I can tell from how you talk you like white girls. right," another ringleader piped in. As if Black or Latin or minority women in general are too uncouth to possibly comprehend the King's English. Humph, I say!

Then the ringleader said something that made his views very clear: "You haven't had your heart broken yet."

It was obvious to me he was coming from a place of hurt. A past lover did something horrible to him-a F**kgirl, maybe-and he used that opportunity as an excuse to dog out as many girls as possible, rather than understanding not all girls are douchettes.

The two main guys spent the rest of that day, well into the night shift, trying to convince me to go to a strip club with them, promises of a certain kitty kat prize dribbled in. Glad to say, I didn't stay there much longer.

But I've been thinking about that moment a lot recently. And something hit me. F**kbois are guys who go around spreading their F**kboi dogma and trying to infect non-F**kbois with their F**kboism. So they can building a f**king army of F**kbois to f**k the world with no f***ing remorse.

That's why, when my high school classmates discovered my passing interest in this one girl, they told me to take her to the stairwell and do the most respectful thing in the world: pull out my penis.

Which-I need to note-I would NEVER do.

It's why, back when I worked at The Door in 2007, a co-worker named Elijah pestered me about how "You don't talk to any girls here, man!"

Side note: I saw Elijah again a year after our summer working together. Turns out he'd just come home from prison after a domestic dispute with his live-in girlfriend where she partially yanked his dreads out.

It's why a now former childhood friend-Adam-around that same time kept bothering me about whether or not I'd started boot knocking with dem ladiez yet.

Additional side note: One of the last times I saw Adam, after not having seen him for a year, was marred by him immediately whispering to me, "So you piped yet?" He also aggressively wanted my cousin's phone number, and created a crazy scheme where he lied that he needed it because he had some emergency he never specified.

I'm not going to share any deets on my love and relationship status. At least,not on this platform. But while i have your attention, I figured I'd give two real quick guidelines on how to not be a F**kboi, or at least try to suppress any possible F**kboisms in public.

1. No ogling a woman's body like fresh meat: As a cis-hetero male, I'd be lying if I said I never gazed at a hot woman before on the street. But there's a big difference between appreciating a woman's beauty and just straight eye-raping her appearance.

Two weeks ago, for instance, during a messenger pick up in East Williamsburg, a receptionist I spoke with ranked a 9 on my cuteness scale. So while she was getting my package ready for pickup, I stole a quick gaze at her face, or two, acknowledged her beauty, and left it at that. No staring or anything. She wasn't a gazelle with her back turned to my tiger chops. So why pounce?

Do you want to continue creating an environment where women feel endangered because strange men are eyeing them like subway masturbators?

Fellas., you can admire a girl's looks without going overboard. And if you ever do feel that way, imagine how you would feel if some guy kept ogling your mom, or sister. Which brings us to my next point.

2. Casually calling women "b***hes,": I've seen this contradiction in damn near every guy I've met who regularly calls girls that word in endearment. The moment you mention, "What if someone casually called your mother or sister or daughter that word?" they go, "But that's my mom/sister/daughter."

If the criteria for using not-so-nice words to refer to women is based on whether or not they're related to you, then, by that logic, why should that person care about calling your female family members girl dogs? After all, those women aren't their blood.

Remember the Golden Rule?

Now, I'm no expert in virtually anything that has to do with life. Except, pigeons and NYC trains.

R32s 4 life!

But I'd like to think that men need to do their part in preventing their own transformations into F**kbois and at least try nicely checking other men around you who exhibit F**kboi behavior. Or, at worst, distancing yourselves from them.

If those efforts cost you some friends and family, then so be it. Less F**kboi stuff in your life, and hopefully more Funboi stuff. Like a drunken Dallas Cowboy Santa buying you a free cookie from Insomnia Cookies on 14th Street in Manhattan, just because he thinks you're amazing. (s/o to that cat before I sign off.)