Well, first, bear in mind that most guys are shitty, at least part of the time. So unless your targeting systems improve dramatically, you’re going to be pussy-deep in shit for the foreseeable future. (Watch out for all those UTIs!)
And you’re viewing the “good enough” thing from the wrong angle. He’s a crappy man, remember? You were *never* good enough; you were a convenience, something disposable he could use to soak up his mess. And a part of you *had* to know that. After all, you’re here, asking *me* about it; at the very least, you must suspect that you have a craving for whatever these walking skidmarks are offering. You’ve got to have some inkling that something inside you needs an intense, hopeless connection with someone who can be counted upon to immediately disappoint and reject you.
Hm. I wonder if it makes you cum harder when he fucks you, knowing he’ll wash his hands of you when he’s done? Is it as simple as that? Is that why you keep coming back for more? Because you can’t help yourself, because nothing feels better than your cunt spasming while your heart is breaking?
Or maybe not. Either way, you’re fun. I like you.