My wife and I recently went to Pittsburgh to watch the Penguins play hockey. We got up insanely early last Wednesday and flew into the 'Burgh via Atlanta. I paid for a cab to the hotel (Holiday Inn Express–South Side), and got the impression that we were taken the long way around. After check in we got a ride in the hotel shuttle to a touristy area and had lunch together. She went to the bathroom twice, each time taking her cell phone and being gone an unusual (for her) length of time.
At least she wasn't texting him right in front of me.
After lunch/dinner, we did some shopping. We got some souvineers for the kids, and saw some lovely buildings. There was some discussion on what to do later that evening, and I suggested a comedy club I saw nearby which had a show at 7:30. She said that sounded like a good enough idea (everyone likes to laugh). We got back to the hotel before 5:00.
Actually, I see that I already covered this portion of the trip in my Jan 07 blog. I'll skip ahead.
The city of Pittsburgh was paralyzed by wintery conditions. Some ice got on the streets, and no one there knew what to do about that. The hotel shuttle got stuck behind a jack-knifed truck, so we had to walk from the hotel to the game. It turned out that the tickets I obtained for us were even better than I thought. It took us a while to find our seats because it didn't occur to us that we should be going through the large, carved wooden doors with extra security. Eventually we figured it out and got to go into a more exclusive area. We got dinner (philly cheese steaks — what is up with such messy food?), and made it to our seats right at face off.
The game was a blast. She really seemed to enjoy herself, and one of the few things I enjoy more than watching hockey is watching her watch hockey. She gets so excited. She squeals, laughs, cheers, boos, jumps up and down. It's really cute as hell. Sadly, even though they played rather well, the Penguins lost to the Damned Flyers, 7-4. She was gone, with her phone, for a full 18 minutes during each intermission.
We bought more souvineers at the various stores inside Mellon Arena, and walked back through the snow to the hotel. She went to bed (after some more texting), and I took another long bath and read.
Friday was a long exercise in torture, doing what used to be one of my favorite things to do with her: shopping for clothes. I went to the post office and mailed home what trinkets we had purchased thus far, and then we ended up at a very fancy clothing store, where my wife spent almost three hours trying on gorgeous outfit after gorgeous outfit.
I had stated that my notes sent to myself would be repeated here in their entirety, but I have changed my mind. They are expurgated. Anyway, here they are (for the most part):
This is harder than I thought it would be. I am constantly having to resist the desire to touch her, hold her, kiss her. Her beauty strengthens in the cold, and it is very cold here. It has become a terrible thing. Also, she's texting A LOT. Not so much right in front of me, but lots of reasons to take her phone over there. Plus, I can hear it vibrate, even on silent. — Jan 6th, 2:02pm.
She is so insanely beautiful that it hurts my heart to look at her. It is not even 8 in thd evening and she's been asleep for who knows how long. My soak lasted over 2 1/2 hours. She's been asleep for most of that. I want to spoon up against her and warm her with my body. Two years ago she would have welcomed and exqected it. Today she would probably react with revulsion and anger. . . I wonder, if I kissed her and she didn'tpull away instantly, would she feel like she was betraying him? — Jan 6th, 7:09pm
I am with her while she shops for clothes at the BCBGMaxAzria store. Her eyes have lit up and she embodies all that I look for in the female form. An activity that used to be among my favorites is now torture. I no longer get asked my opinion about outfits, and do not get to see the results when she tries something on. Further, anything lovely she buys, and everything in this store is lovely, is being bought for his enjoyment. She will never wear any of it for me. She saw me sitting here typing and asked if I wanted to go do something else while she does this. As holding and kissing and fucking her are no longer options, and spending other time with me has been supplanted with spending time near me, there is nothing left I actually WANT to do. . . All I do is hurt. . . — Jan 8th, 12:11pm
I hate to equate being thin with being attractive, but two young women came into the store, and the thinner one was also the prettier one. She has a Mary Elizabeth Winstead thing going on. Her friend is by no means unattractive, but her body is very average. Anyway, the average one picked up a tiny red dress and proclaimed that it was something she would definitely wear. Then the slender one said she might consider something like it too, but only after she starts her diet. What the fuck? She needs to diet as much as [my wife] does. — Jan 8th, 12:56pm
She has been checking my opinion on some of the outfits. Surprised does not begin to describe me. The fun wore off quickly when my reaction to the shortest skirt she has worn since she was a waitress prompted her to decide to get it. She hasn't worn anything like that for me in ten years. She won't be wearing anything like that for me again. She will be wearing it for him. She probably can't wait to wear it for him and see if he reacts as well. He will. She does not believe me about her looks, but that skirt on her legs would get her in People magazine's fashion section. — Jan 8th, 1:08pm
I just noticed the big-assed mirror out here. She hasn't been coming out here to show me. She has been coming out here because the light is better than in the dressing room. I matter even less than I thought I did. — Jan 8th, 1:12pm
That was the last one sent to me, by me. I just didn't feel like writing any more. I did leave the store for a bit and walk through the snow and ice to a bookstore. I left my coat there with her, and risked pnemonia and hypothermia, but she didn't notice. I was at the bookstore and a coffee shop for about 45 minutes, then drank coffee and read a book for the rest of the time she tried on clothes.
I carried her purchases (and the books I bought) while we checked a few other stores in the area, then I carried them to the hotel (we walked back). Once there she started texting again, and I took a shower. Please understand that I am not listing EVERYTHING either of us did. She is very hygienic, and showered every day. When I got out we talked to the kids on the phone for a bit, then walked out into the snow again to find her a bacon cheeseburger. She was just in the mood for one.
We got back to the hotel and she was obviously ready to ignore me for hours, so I bid her a good night and headed out to the same strip club I had gone to before. Friday nights are much more interesting than Wednesdays there, with more (and more attractive) girls. I ended up spending most of the night talking to the same dancer as Wednesday (and a very, very pretty friend of hers). They both told me many nice things about myself that I immediately discounted because (1.) they were being paid to be nice to me, (2.) I know myself far better than they do, and (3.) that's one of the things I do–discount nice things said about me. I'm not fishing for compliments. I really don't believe them.
I got back to the hotel just before 4:00am, and there was an off duty cop roaming the halls of our floor. My wife was still awake. At first I thought (hoped) she couldn't sleep because she was worried about me, but I found out that lots of drunk assholes were running up and down the halls most of the night. The cop was providing security in response to multiple calls to the desk from my wife and others.
I grabbed a quick 3 hours of sleep, and we got up and headed to the airport to come back home.
It was a lovely city, and a nightmare trip. I had hoped that maybe being alone with me would spark some remaining fondness within her. Unfortunately, I was never alone with her, I was simply preventing her from being alone with her cell phone.
Here in Oklahoma it is officially January 15th. Tomorrow is my birthday (she has not mentioned it in any way, shape, or form). Four days after that is the 20th. I will keep trying for now, but I think that will be my day of giving up on her completely.