I know we can do this. I know it’s not how you would have chosen it, but I know I can make you happy. And all I can say in that you make me… you make me into someone I couldn’t even imagine. You make me happy, even when you’re awful, I would rather be with you – even the you that you seem to think is diminished – than with anyone else in the world.
You don’t have to be an arse! Your friends got the shitty treatment. Fine *They* deserved it. *I’m* just trying to do my job as best I can. So it would be really nice if you didn’t try and make my life as miserable as you apparently make everyone else’s.
I’m not employed by you. I’m employed by your mother. So unless *she* says she doesn’t want me here anymore, I’m staying. Not because I care about you, or particularly enjoy your company, but because I need the money. I *really* need the money.
And ignore the fact that he’s shagging his secretary within five years. And bitch about him at dinner parties, knowing he won’t leave because he’s scared of the alimony. And have sex once every six weeks, and listen to him going on and on about how much he adores the children, while doing nothing to actually take care of them. And have perfect hair, but get this kind of pinched face through never saying what you actually mean. And develop an insane Pilates habit, and buy a dog, or a horse, and develop a crush on your riding instructor. And watch your husband take up jogging when he hits 40 and buy a Harley. And know that every day, he goes into the office and looks at the young men, and feels like, somehow, he got suckered! And leave him anyway, and come back here to give the children a happy childhood.
