It's pretty simple, but a difficult read:
Someone we loved left us because they thought we were unable to conceive. This is despite the fact that he can't get it up when we're actually ovulating.
Nevertheless, we're hurt and disappointed and we, for the most part, blame ourselves.
Seeing them go off with a new, more attractive/younger model with big boobs and wide hips is painful and makes us feel inferior.
We've seen her Instagram page and she's got a house full of kids and probably got more eggs than that bitch off Aliens.
Now, for just a moment, it looks like the young slapper might have crabs and also a bad case of Thruchel. It's not terminal and probably won't affect her dropping a sprog, but it's not a good look and it might set the clock back a year or two.
We, for lack of anything better to do at present, delight in a fleeting zeitgeist of sweet, sweet schadenfreude and the hope that we might pop one out before him thanks to being ridden by the biggest dude on the ranch.
(I told you it was a difficult read.)