Whatever.
To her he is an exercise in discipline, or form. She thinks that the illusion of romance is enough to keep him thirsty amid the dry dry desert of her obscure affection for him.
He enjoys the partnership of dressing up, going out and showing off with her. He is cunning and in his prime, planning little things for today and tomorrow.
He must be a serious nuisance for her. A dick licker from a fucked up family that is destined for failure in the worst possible ways. Your basic nobody.
In his mind he lives for passion and curiosity, but to her, he is shit she scrapes from the bottom of her shoe; he's listening politely as she screams her fucking head off.
He tries really hard and then he tries even harder. Believing he is content, and that he could be happy like this on and on.
In his absence, she is sultry and ravenous. Moving quickly on others from 0 to 100, but never for him.
You sad gloomy bastard, you--