Page 4 of The Love of Priest

It took a lot of devotion,dedication, and most of all, motive to tear someone down to the nothingness of their bones and strip them of their emotions, thoughts, care, love, trust and beauty.

Men.

They were the ones with the time, patience and motives.

They loved you and broke you all in one instance.

Men played their game well. They caught vulnerability, need of aid, and the desperate search for reassurance from women and used that to their advantage.

You don't feel loved?

A man would convince a woman that he was all the love she needed. He loved her wholeheartedly and unconditionally.

You need attention? A man would give you that in a heartbeat and swindle your mind to make you feel obligated to reimburse him for dealing with you for a mere couple of hours.

You need stability? A man would be right there, calling you every day at the same time, texting you every morning and night and sexing you down just the way you loved.

Then, one day, all that would stop. You’d feel as if your stability had been stripped away and discarded in the trash. He missed a day, and now your whole world would be in a frenzy. He had become a constant commodity and necessity in your life… and you let him. You now have no power and control. He is free to come and go as he pleases. You will simply sit there and deal with it because those mere hours of attention, that love you yearned for, and that stability he offered as he penetrated your body just to leave and not contact you until the next week, were all you were going to get. No other man could do it like him. Your mind, body, and emotions had now been enslaved. You must learn the game to never be played like you are the game.

With a rising era of women’s rights and feminism, Britain just wished she had that power, that strut, that confidence, that strength. Strong women exuded a thick layer of intimidation, not only for men, but for women, too. Being turned away for asking a strong woman how she did it was Britain's biggest fear.

It would’ve immediately made her feel like a fool, as if she were unworthy, lacked potential, and was evidently stuck in her situation forever. Britain didn't want to hear that. Although she had no hope for herself, she wanted to hear others’ hopes for her, their beliefs, their encouragement.

Regret.

That was the feeling you felt once you realized how much of a trance you were in. Your actions were disgusting. Unbelievable! Unfathomable, even! You let a man control your sacred aura, your precious energy. You felt dirty and wished you never let him get that close. You wished you never allowed him to get that comfortable. Your heart, mind and body felt compelled to let him sweet talk you. They felt compelled to oblige their wants and needs. They felt empty, and that man was right there to fill them up metaphorically and physically.

You began questioning yourself. How is he making you feel right now? Like nothing? Unimportant? Forgettable? He's treating you like a last resort and an option. Maybe that's all you really are to him. A last resort. A last option. You weren't the first one he decided to text in the morning anymore. You weren't the one who filled up that 2 PM to 3 PM time slot of idle time with a phone call anymore. You weren't the one he sent his last text to before he went to bed anymore. And for certain, you weren't the only one he was sexing the way you loved— with passion, with fire, and with what you thought was love.

You’ve descended to the bottom of the list of his plethora of women, and now you’re the one he'll call when he's bored, tired of all the other women who may just be better than you at everything: keeping up conversation, making him laugh, sexing him how he prefers instead of how you prefer. You now have competition, and he’s making it evident. It’s in plain sight for you to see. Now, you feel the fire lit underneath your ass. It's festering and taking over your entire being.

You're angry. That's cute. But guess what? He still has all the power and control.

Longing.

You're now longing for him. Just a few days ago, you had fully convinced yourself it was fuck that nigga! Now, here you are in bed, laying on your back, wishing he was hovering over you, fluttering kisses on your neck all the way down to your pearl. You can’t imagine any other man, only him. You remember the pattern of his breathing when he slept, when he was about to cum inside you, when he simply just sat there. That pattern will always be remembered. You miss it. You're yearning for it now. You wish he was now with you to give you all you need. He's not, though. He will possibly never be with you, unless he falls into a stagnant and unsatisfying slump of boredom again.

Remember: you are his last option, last resort. The list of women has now grown and accumulated with way more. Your spot has now declined even further down.

Your weeklong wait for him has now increased into a two-week-long wait. Now that he has seen how two weeks feel without you, you best believe he's going to test his luck and see how well he can survive without you for a month.

It's been a month, and he still hasn't made it back. That cute little anger you had at the stage of regret has now intensified into fury. You are furious! How could he possibly be without you for a month?! Are you that replaceable?! A bother?! Unappealing?! Your competition has now snagged your spot, and she is now receiving the luxury of only having to wait for one week! She now has your weekly visits, phone calls, texts, pop ups and sex sessions!

Aren't you bubbling in fury?!

You hate to admit it, but you're jealous. You are now left to long for him while she and however many other bitches get their needs by him.

Wonder.

You wonder if he knows how he's making you feel? Is he even taking your emotions into consideration? You're still furious and enraged, but now sadness has crept its way into the equation.

Your constant wonder of him has now brought sadness into your life. You thought he had gotten rid of that emotion completely. Now you're sad… again. Wondering where he's at. Who is he entertaining? Did he even love you at all? How many women has he abused like this? What if you were the first?

Questions spiral your mind while he's out on the town basking in another beautiful woman's presence. You wonder if she would listen if you ever gave her the heads up. Nah, screw that. Someone else needs to feel that pain.

That nothingness. That regret. That longing. That wonder. In a matter of a few weeks, she'll be in your position, being only a pawn in his little scandalous game. He may just come back to you or move you up on the list so you can be more of a priority. The more you wonder, the more and more your sadness fades away. You become arrogant. He'll always come back to you.

You're where home is. At least that's what he told you. Right? It doesn't even matter. He’ll be back. They always are.

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