as there are many posts about the mistress decided to tell his story.I had a chance to meet friends with a nice, kind man. We exchanged phone numbers. I’m realizing that men who like other pigs, without the past there is no immediately asked about his marital status that he proved his freedom by the stamp about divorce in the passport. After a couple dates. Eventually we began to meet.In General, everything was cool, we walked around, did he give me flowers, expensive gifts, joint leisure, sex (slept most of it, then it turned out that the apartment was rented to a friend who often went to watch). After some time he insisted on meeting my baby.
In the end I have completely evaporated the sense of danger they say, well, if he even child wanted to meet you, helps and participates in our lives…blah blah blah after a while I began to suspect him in connection “on the side”, he began to turn the phone off, staying with me at night, could break suddenly “urgent business”… And then, one day, he came to work for me in an easy drunk. We were talking and then the phone rang. He ran right on the street, but did not notice that the window was open and I, of course, heard the whole conversation. Heard he yelled at the woman, calling her a fool, convinced that now come home and demanded that she shut up. Of course, I began to ask who he was talking to, the kind of woman he can call a fool, already having no doubt that this is the fool – his ex-wife, with whom he lived all this time.Naturally, any further dealings and speech could not be.I am genuinely sorry for the woman who kills its young for that shit with the pig’s attitude, her feelings.
They do not have any family. No love not even smell. And I’m very glad I learned everything pretty quickly, not having to high hopes for our Union.R.S. From that day on, I stopped communicating with him, it’s been a couple weeks, he came again to me for work, standing with guilty eyes and asked to talk. Having been refused, was silent for a moment, and then said: Then let’s agree that you won’t me to write more. The impression that all this time he was afraid that I will start to sort things out, to write, to come home to him, perhaps he would be exposed))
And I just want him to drown in their own shit ?