Grumpy and I were having breakfast together on the weekend. We'd been keeping it fairly friendly and civilised when Grumpy started whinging about his love life and how he'd never get married again (obviously the first time was too psychologically scarring to contemplate another attempt and thanks for making that clear).
"Would you get married again?" he asked.
"It's not really a goal, but if I met the right guy and he wanted to, well, why not?"
"Of course, it could be awkward explaining to him that you haven't quite got round to divorcing your first husband yet."
Luckily the waitress arrived right at that moment, delivering the bowl of cream I'd had the foresight to order. Hope he didn't get any on his whiskers.