That sweater, that smile, it’s all for him, her tall, powerful boyfriend. She doesn’t pay any attention to me anymore. And why should she? I’m just her wimpy failure of a husband. But I do my best to make her happy. I make sure the house is spotless, her laundry is done, and she never has to lift a finger. This way she gets to enjoy more time with him. So why do I do it? Well, just look at her. I can’t resist her or deny her anything. It’s what I am.