Surprise, surprise. Your girlfriend dumped you on Valentine’s day. You had it all planned out: expensive dinner, lingerie and a rose petal bath as a pathetic hint for her to finally have sex with you. To be honest, she didn’t even dump you. She fucked your best friend and ghosted you. You didn’t have the backbone to go back to the house you bought her after seeing the guy you’ve known since the second grade balls deep in her, bending her over the grand piano you bought for her when you tried to ask her to marry you (she inevitably rejected you).

You thought it had been going so well, too. You had just gifted her with a Chanel wallet two days ago, though you did feel weird when you thought you saw your best friend’s Maserati leave the compound while she waltzed through the french doors with several glaringly superior warm orange bags from Hermes draped around her perfect wrists. You looked at the wallet collecting dust, exactly where she had left it when you first tried to surprise her with it, just as unloved as you were. She looked so beautiful playing with her new Kelly bags that you decided it was worth it.

You weren’t even mad when you saw her cumming on his cock. You watched like the pervert you are, fascinated by the faces and sounds she had never once made for you. She never let you touch her, and when you made jokes that she was only with you for the money, she never disagreed. She has complete control over your finances. You know she’s probably fucking him right now while your AMEX sits in her lambskin wallet, you know, not the Chanel one. Five cars that you paid in cash for her, some of which she’s only driven around the block once, sit in the driveway of the mini mansion you bought for her after only a few week of knowing her. She was an enigma. You’d do anything for her. You considered yourself such a normal guy until she did this to you, and yet you would never take a single second of it back.

She never said I loved you. The most meaningful conversations you had were the ones she had with other men that you eavesdropped on while doing the dishes like her personal maid. At first you told yourself that they were just her friends. Then one day she started loudly using her vibrator to some guy’s nut video, and you swore his voice was too familiar. Your best friend isn’t a bad guy. He just has a massive cock and hairy soccer legs. One time you were jerking off and the thought of his massive thighs putting you through the wall flicked through your mind. It’s not like you’re gay or anything, your best friend is just really. Fucking. Hot. And rich.

Why be mad? They’re so hot they were destined to be together. She’d been with you for months and never even let you see her nude except for when she wanted you to take pictures of her for her Onlyfans. Your best friend met your girl twice and by the third time had her slumped over a chair you paid for with his balls crammed in her asshole. You had no chance, and you can’t fight fate. They’re the hot new power couple and nobody will say a thing about her cuckolding you. They’ll laugh, congratulate them and make jokes about being in the wedding, and not one person will ask what happened between the two of you. You just weren’t interesting or important enough to be remembered. In fact, most people didn’t even know you were dating, and even if they did they would never believe it. She’s a beautiful, radiant goddess without a problem in the world, and you? You’re… you. Nothing going on for you, no personality, and not even a dime to your name because you spent it all on your ex-girlfriend.