My man is better than you

It usually starts with you comparing yourself to him.

You see how I talk about my man, how spoiled I am, how easily he gets my attention, my affection, my time… and somewhere in that little cuck brain of yours, you already know you could never compete.

You’re not taking his place. You’re not getting what he gets. You’re not even close.

So you find another way to be useful.

You send.

Maybe it starts with covering our coffee. Then dinner. Then you’re volunteering to pay for date night because there’s something embarrassingly satisfying about knowing your money is funding the man you’ll never measure up to.

That’s the part that gets you hooked, isn’t it?

He gets the girlfriend. You get the receipt.

He gets my affection. You get a “good cuck” when your payment comes through.

And eventually you stop pretending you’re competing at all. You accept your little role on the sidelines, watching me adore the man who actually deserves me while you contribute from a safe distance.