The first time I was only 18 and thought he was the earth's version of God. The second time, he'd promised that he had grown up and things would be different. And they were. For a while. Then he started drinking again. He's the only man I've ever really cared about. I don't regret being with him, even though he was a class-A jerk. I regret that I was never good enough for him. *shrug* Life goes on.

it's the other way around. he wasn't good enough for you (=