There must be some time in a man's life when he looks at the smoldering remnants of his life, within the wreckage of his marriage still smoking from the latest shit test, seeing the years of apathy at best and outright contempt at worse from the woman who he married so long ago, where he finally gets it.

He looks at the shrew harpy in front of him, whose actions have spoken in no uncertain terms that she believes she could have done better.

He chuckles to himself, and tells her,

Fuck you. Chase me.