You know what you were getting into with him. You knew he had a wife and a child, at least one child and probably an assortment of others each unaware of the others' existence. You knew he was the type, didn't you?
You walked into the restaurant knowing he had left her at home, probably making some flimsy excuse about working late or maybe a mate's birthday. You slid into the seat opposite, you ordered from the menu in mangled French and you ate the meal bought for you not for her. You knew it was where he always comes except with his wife, didn't you?
You went back to your place, his suggestion of course. You couldn't go to his, no question. Not that he honestly told you why, yours is closer. Really? Yours has no awkward questions in and nothing to make him slip up. You thought it would be easier for getting home after. No need for him to hand over £20 for a taxi in the early morning hours. Although you knew there would be no early morning hours, didn't you?
You weren't surprised when things starts a regular pattern, always meeting at yours, never meeting his mates, not spending much time together except for sex. You spent Christmas alone, not even a phone call. You waited so long on your birthday that it was too late to go anywhere decent. You got birthday sex, but it was rushed and you didn't like it much. Your present was nice but you knew his secretary bought it, didn't you?
You always take him back. He knows your weaknesses and he plays on them. You always believe he will leave her when the kids are big enough, when she gets a proper job, when he's under less stress at work. You always hope he'll do it this time.
You always know he won't though, don't you?