Word on the grapevine is that he bought you a Rolex and a Chihuahua and something with diamonds, but god knows where he gets the money to keep you happy from because as far as I’m aware you can’t get paid for living in a gym. The money he doesn’t spend on you and his Paleo meal plan is spent on a VIP booth for him and the Lads at Quids In on a Monday night and the rest is spent on his annual trip to Maga with the boys, leaving you all alone with your Rolex and your dog, but I suppose you’re fine with that.
He used to pick up girls in his Corsa, but now you’re both settled and he’s driving you to work in his Audi, before stopping off to get his weekly spray tan and getting his eyebrows plucked. It may be mid-February but that doesn’t stop him rolling up to Tesco in his deep v-neck muscle tee and shorts that show off his steroid induced muscles that you love.
You’ll be walking down the street with him but he’s too busy to hold your hand because he’s vaping with one hand and texting with the other, but you’re fine with that because he’s taking you for lunch at Nandos. You’ll ignore the way he looks at other girls arses and flirts with them when ordering your food, because you’re so lucky to have a guy like him – a guy that all the girls want.
You’re used to staying in your room because he has all of his mates over for the football and some drinks, but you can’t ever get through a full movie or get on with some work because they’re playing house music so loud that it puts you off. When you wake up the next morning with your love beside you, you go to the kitchen and dodge the Fosters cans that have been thrown all over the place and start cleaning up, because that’s what he deserves for making you the luckiest girl in the world – luckier than you ever were being with me.