[MFF] 30/12/2015 – 30/12/2018

I need to get this off my chest.
If anything, it might help or inspire someone…

“Don’t worry, things will get better”. That’s what I was always told.

To that, I ask, how can you be so sure?

I remember the night I got back home after being away for a few weeks, my girlfriend of 3 years collects me and we drive home. She’s untalkative and unhappy.

Fast forward to us sitting on the bed, the conversation begins. She ends with “We should break up”.

I agree, we fall asleep.

I wake up the following morning to New Years Day, she leaves to work, I stay at home and take to the bottle.

By sun down I’m faded and numb, she doesn’t come home.

Turns out she fucked a so-called friend of mine after work that night.

It’s funny how People always get sympathetic when I tell them that story, they become confused when I tell them it was the best thing that could have happened at the time.

It cut me free from living her hell, her violent mix of bipolar and borderline personality, her abuse, her manipulation, her lies.

For the first time in over three years, I feel release.

I don’t love her, I haven’t for a long time, I don’t care what happens anymore.

I start seeing other girls. I bring some of them back to our house while she’s out.

The next few months get worse, while winding up the house and moving out, reality sinks in for her.

She becomes emotionally vulnerable and lonely, making changes to her appearance, waxing her pussy and dressing up in hyper-revealing outfits. Doing anything and everything to find self-validation.

She comes home drunk one night and asks if she can make a sex arrangement, I tell her we can, on the condition that she will never be a priority, the other girls get first preference for rendezvous.

I fuck her out of convenience when I can be bothered, she has an average pussy, not tight, looks good on the outside, average tits, average body, she asks me for critique on her blowjob skills, I take everything she offers and give her nothing in return.

As the weeks go by, it breaks her mentally, she can’t deal with my lack of empathy and she turns to hate.

Eventually everything is settled, I find a new place.

Things will get better, right?

At this point I’m already heavily into fitness, I ride over 20km’s a day, I’m in peak physical condition.

I get told that the bartender next to my workplace is keen to get to know me. “Sure, why not?”

We get talking all the time and go for a few late-night drives, I am deeply attracted to her. I take her out to dinner; we make out for the first time.

The next three months feel like an intoxicated haze.

Late nights at bars, taxi’s home at 4, rough sex till dawn, Sunday drives to the beach, listening to Abel’s music.

A few weeks at a time she doesn’t leave my place.

We get completely lost in one another, everything is perfect, I found an angel, little did I know she had fallen.

Her addiction and history of abuse soon surfaces.

Our love takes a dark turn, rough sex isn’t doing it for her anymore. She needs to feel normal again. She needs to feel abuse. She needs heavy marks. She needs to feel forced. She needs to feel broken and used.

After many long nights of dragging her home and facing her inner demons, it’s over.

I’d like to think that none if it affected me, but I’d be lying.

No matter what I do, I can’t unsee or stop feeling the pain she carries within her.

Now I only work weeknights, this works well. I want to kill pain and forget.

I party most weeknights, sleeping through the days, I progress heavily into the weekends.

Getting faded off of liquor, double cups, dropping X, bumping lines, smoking loud, fucking girls I’ll never know.

Just as I rise to the top of the afterparty scene, a stripper sits on my lap, she wants me in her life.

She is every man’s dream, everyone wants her, she never lets them have her.

Long natural hair, massive tits, tiny pussy and an ass that would rival a Kardashian’s all on an 18-year-old body.

We fuck everywhere and anywhere, several times daily. Getting fucked off weed and liquor on the regular.

If you haven’t felt a pussy slowly grind on and off your cock while you’re high on weed, you’re missing out.

She likes girls, too. She invites them over for the most unbelievable cock-draining threesomes imaginable.

Eventually she quits the pole, takes a job as a bar manager and moves in.

I get a second high-paying job, we get a second high-rise apartment in the city, I’ve made it.

I’m envied in the scene, I have more money than I know what to do with, I don’t pay for drinks, bar owners want me in their establishments, I have instant access to any drug I like with a single Facebook message, I’m allowed to take any girl I like home, men shift to jealousy when I’m around.

I get a Saturday evening to myself in the new apartment, I look across the city as the sun is setting, with a drink in my hand, I reflect on everything that’s happened.

I should be the happiest man alive; truth is I couldn’t feel more painful and lost if I tried.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/e9l8ew/mff_30122015_30122018