He never had good taste. He was a rough and tumble builder who wore loud tee shirts or football kit and drank nothing but cheap beer. He was a bully and a loudmouth. But still I married him.
I don't even remember why? He wasn't especially good looking. Lately, he'd even been proud of his ever-expanding beer belly and his ever-decreasing hair. He was my children's father though.
I'm mean, I'm getting older too. Bit thicker round the middle an' all. Few wrinkles around the eyes - smile lines. That's what they should be anyway. Mine are more frown lines.
Anyway, now he is with this girl. This barmaid type. All short skirts and low tops. Leering over him. Trollop.
He thinks she's 'gorgeous', worth leaving me and the kids for. He thinks she'll make him happy. he says she's not like me at all. But then, he never did have good taste.