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Tonight, after who knows how many years, I meet an acquaintance from the old area. After "where are you, what are you, how are you?" She began her story. She got married early and went to America. The husband got drunk after a while, luckily she didn't have children with him.
She divorced and met another muse. Greek ... trying to be another Onassis. He bought her everything she wanted and she wanted just one tennis teacher. She had to buy it herself but it had a shelf life. Both Greek and tennis teacher. She did well during the divorce and it doesn't matter whose child she is. It's hers. Then an Irishman enters the scene, their relationship was extramarital and sweet. It lasted until his wife gave birth to his fifth child and he decided to "settle down". She found solace in an Italian, but their marriage was short-lived.
When he was arrested and convicted of "dirty work", she decided to divorce him and go through life on her own. But ... she couldn't. Quite by accident, Mikey entered her life, fell madly in love with her, proposed to her, took her on a dream trip and bought her a villa in Hawaii. I learned all this in less than two minutes. In those two minutes, she inhaled the air only once and immediately after the necessary dose of oxygen, she asked me: "And you? Do you have a villa?" I told her that I had several and that they all had good safes. She blinked a few times and asked me what?Aaaa, here we are! I told her it was safes for valuables. I know for a long time that she lives in a small town near Vienna. Alone. Why does she need such nonsense?