Here's a story:
Your wife, let's call her Marco Silva, has caught my attention. Let's call me Everton. Now, I haven't had a good few years if I'm honest. There was a period of time when I kept being really positive about things and calling myself phenomenal but, to any casual onlooker, things were pretty dire. I just didn't have any shape or discipline. Then I tried to fix things by getting real and criticising myself at every turn. Sadly, this only made things worse due to my focusing on the wrong things and blaming others.
Still, your wife has caught my attention. So I did what I tend to do in these situations: I showed her a little bit of my willy. Granted, my willy is not what it was, certainly not the rapidly growing thing that I inserted directly into YOUR rectum in the summer of '84, but it still has some charm.
Anyway, it turns out your wife is a whore, in the sense she has an Italian pimp. He values her pretty highly, I suppose. Awkward thing is, the second I showed a little bit of my willy to your wife, who, remember, in this story is called Marco Silva, she really wanted to kiss it and put it in all of her special places. It probably says a lot about you that she was so excited by the little bit of willy I showed her. Anyway, her Italian pimp will probably be a little upset and ask me for a lot of money for her. I don't mind this, as money doesn't really concern me these days. I'll pay whatever.
I hope you liked my story. It has a hidden message you won't get.