You're Being Used As Practice For A Real Man

You have a beautiful life you built with the woman you’re sure you’re going to marry.

Until she rips the rug from right under you.

You’re not here because you consider yourself a sub. In fact, you really thought you were quite the opposite. Reading material that simply entertained you and in no way actually applied to you. A man with a successful job, beautiful home, and enviable relationship. Everyone wished they had what you had. Until she decided to throw everything away.

How does it feel to know you got so wrapped up in her that she has the ability to crush you with the weight of one tiny, yet completely life-altering decision? You’re not a person, you’re even less important the chewed gum she spits out and wraps carelessly back in its crumpled wrapper, tossing it away and never once thinking about it again. That’s exactly how she treated you, lest the part where she savored you in her mouth for hours. That’s the thing—your relationship looked so fucking good from the outside, but the sex? The sex was fucking abysmal.

It’s why you knew this couldn’t last forever. You resisted thinking about the future because all you saw was a deep, gaping hole where your sex life should have been. You know she got off—you could hear her moaning softly in the next room (separate bedrooms to keep up with the dysfunctional-in-private decorum) with one of the many hybrid clit-sucker dildos she put on your credit card, “gifts” she called them, and you pretended to go deaf every time you heard the buzz come on in the middle of the night. Simply because you knew you’d never do any better.

Why did you stay? Because she’s the baddest girl you’ll ever be with. Getting with her was a fluke and when she fucked you in the backseat of your car the first time you met her you asked the gods how this could possibly ever happen? Heaven heard you and stopped it from ever happening again, your forearm now blisteringly huge and her clit vibrated into oblivion. This was your sex life now, pumping to the sound of her getting herself off. Separation was your intimacy.

So how could you be surprised when she decided to end it all, practically ghosting you into a life of nothingness? There’d be no point in staying in the house you shared with her, even though you paid for it. There’d be no point trying to hang out with mutual friends, even though they were your friends first. There’d be no reason to stay in your city, even though it had been your life’s dream to move here. Everywhere you looked you’d see her and you know it would be like that for years. Ruining entire cities, entire states for you—that’s the kind of power she holds.

How could she do this? Why? Ask yourself more stupid questions in an attempt to play pretend. Like you don’t already know exactly why it was so easy to get rid of you.

You were practice for her. Nothing but a placeholder for the man she really wants to be with. Obviously she wasn’t going to marry the first man she moved in with, but the second? The second she could have a happy ending with. All of the ugly, dirty work that went into building a home she doesn’t have to do with him because you took care of that. Or even better—they’ll sell all of your hard work without even batting an eyelash, just to move into a penthouse suite, wraparound balcony just to fuck her on.

That’s all they’re going to do, honestly. You know she’s literally insatiable—you hear the evidence every night. He’s going to have the time of his life inside of her, you have that one time to attest to, and you’re so jealous you can’t even feel it anymore. Seething would be a great way to describe it, but disintegrating? Even better. Falling apart in your jealousy, feeling what everyone else felt about you and your relationship before she went voila! Just Kidding. I don’t want you anymore… it burned and you hung onto it. So much better than feeling nothing, being nothing. Because at you weren’t just some used gum wrapper on the side of the road, you’re part of the equation. You’re the cuckolded ex that got burned upon breakup. You’re the practice method for her perfect life. You were the warm up for her wet ass pussy. You have to think of yourself this way or else you’re nothing, and the best part? You know that while coming to terms with all of this, finding purpose in your desolation, she doesn’t think of you, at all.