TEACH ME NOT 2 HATE LOVE

One: Done With Love

🧑Nik Anthony POV🧑 

How could I be so stupid?

How could I let something like this happen to me yet again?

I met a seemingly amazing woman. Correction: a devil disguised as an angel. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I allowed her to get close to me. Gave her all of me. I let myself believe that she was the one, my soulmate, only for her to mess me up spiritually and mentally.

Darn it!

I thought I had learned my lesson from my first horrible experience with these wretched beasts called women. But no. I am. I was a sucker for love.

But no more. No more, Mr. Nice Guy.

I am done with this stupid thing called love. Keep that thing away from me. It takes too much of a toll on the heart, mind, and soul. It hurts too much—so much that I feel like ripping my heart from my chest with my bare hands and throwing it into flames.

Never again will I, Nik-Anthony, allow another woman to get to know me or be close to me, unless it’s to quench my carnal urges. After all, that’s the only thing a woman wants from a man.

Isn’t that right, ladies?

Why settle for a man who will wine and dine you, a man who will adore and cherish you, when you can have a man who doesn’t care about you or your problems? A man who treats you like dirt. A guy who just wants one thing. The only thing a woman has to offer. Sex.

Now, ladies, don’t bash me for that statement.

Just know that I once believed that women were one of God’s greatest creations. That women are more than just a good time—a stress reliever for lower body tension. And apart from God, there is nothing more precious than being in the company of the woman I love. Adoring her. Cherishing her. Loving her with all the cells that make up my body. Loving her to the moon and back.

However, I’ve learned not once but twice, in the hardest ways possible, that I’ve been gravely mistaken and that I was a fool. An idiot. A clown for ever believing such nonsense. And for my stupidity, I was rewarded with anger, sadness, and pain. A shattered heart.

I’m just one big emotional train wreck, I tell you.

Ugh! I regret wasting five years of my precious life with that wretched woman. I regret loving someone who I thought was my everything and I hers, only to find out that I meant nothing to her.

I even learned that she was messing around with numerous men. That that witch was spending my hard-earned money on these worthless scum. The audacity.

This sly vixen was playing me all along, and she did exceptionally well too.

Well, at least she wasn’t as bad as my first lover. That one was a special kind of disaster—messing around with some of my colleagues. Scratch that—ex-colleagues. But it didn’t stop there. That shameless, filthy woman had secret relationships with not one, but two of my brothers. And my father. For months.

It wasn’t much of a secret, though—just to me. Somehow, I was the last to find out while everyone else knew.

I know—it’s horrible. Disgusting, even. But believe me, none of that even scratches the surface of the evil and agony my so-called first lover inflicted on me.

You see, this conniving vixen got pregnant and led this colossal fool—me—to believe the child was mine. And only God knows how overjoyed I was when I heard the news. The sheer, overwhelming happiness that filled my soul at the thought of becoming a father was indescribable.

But that joy was short-lived. It was ripped away from me the day I learned the truth—that my child wasn’t mine. That he belonged to my deadbeat, traitorous younger brother.

Something inside me broke that day. Something I’ll never get back.

Yeah, I know. I’ve had terrible luck with women. And I can already hear what some of you might be thinking: Maybe I’m unable to satisfy her urges.

Ok, let’s just set the record straight here. With my experiences, I’d say I know a thing or two about keeping a woman happy in that department. I’m not one to boast, but trust me when I say—satisfaction wasn’t the issue here.

Unlike those men who act solely for their own satisfaction, I actually take the time out to turn on every inch of my woman’s body, pleasing her sexually, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

And my package may not be the biggest in the world, but it is beyond average, and it is capable of doing some damage. So trust me, it had nothing to do with sex.

Some might say I didn’t spend enough time with her. But that’s not true. I made a point of taking my girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now—on romantic outings at least three times per week if times permitted it. We even went clubbing some Saturdays too.

Looking back, though, that was my mistake. The club turned out to be where she met some of the men she ended up hooking up with.

And no, I’m not unattractive either. On the contrary, I’d rate myself a solid nine out of ten. I’m not a full-time bodybuilder, but I keep my physique well-toned through daily workouts in my home gym and a healthy diet. Plus, as the owner of several successful, top-tier businesses, financial stability isn’t something I have to worry about.

The problem is that I’m drawn to the wrong types of women. Somehow, I seem to attract the worst of the worst—a magnet for sly vixens and catastrophic relationships.

Ugh.

I hate myself for this—for letting it happen over and over again. For falling for these wicked enchantresses time and time again.

And this is why I’ve made the decision to stop dating altogether—to give up on love and protect myself, my heart, and my sanity.

After all, no one can hurt, betray, or break you when you’re alone.

Right?