Boredom,
It's Price Can Be Devastating
the Troubador
It just got to be too much, too many hints, too many inconsistencies.
Sally and I had been married a dozen years. When we wed it was for all the right reasons, but things had changed. We both 'grew', as they say.
For me, it meant I settled down and saw a future. At least that's what I called it. The bar scene bored me now, the loud music and drunks weren't fun any longer. The music was so loud I couldn't really talk over it, and it was important to me now to connect with people. The drunks were just that, drunks. When I stopped taking more than a couple drinks an evening the stupid things the drunks said and did stopped being funny clever and began being just stupid and inane.
I thought Sally was going along with me. She seemed to be as interested in the walks, quiet evenings at home and the loving sex as I was. We had stopped the bar scene and begun doing 'things' together. She seemed to agree with me that quieter, less rowdy diversion were at least as satisfying. Lord knows our heads hurt a lot less the next morning.
Well, that's what I thought until her business trips began to come closer together. She had a job with a cosmetics firm, and visited the firms customers regularly to push and demonstrate 'New & Improved' products in their line. The business trips had increased from one every three to four months until the last few months I realized Sally was flying off somewhere about every three weeks.
When I started thinking about it, the pattern of the trips had changed too. At first Sally had been heading to the airport in the morning. Arriving at her destination before noon, Sally would meet with the executives of the firm she was visiting over lunch. She would spend the afternoon answering questions and showing the advantages of 'New and Improved. The next day she gave demonstrations at leading area boutiques and department stores, usually lasting through the afternoon. Sometimes Sally would give an evening 'performance', but then she would fly back home that night. She always called me to meet her at the terminal when she arrived, no matter what time she was to arrive.
Now she was flying out the evening before, then doing her meetings and demonstrations over the next two days, presumably like before. But she was flying home the morning or early afternoon after what I had come to call her demonstration performances. At first she had been making a flying two-day trip, arriving one morning, staying over one night and flying home the next afternoon. Now she was spending three nights before returning the third morning she was gone and she didn't seem to want me to meet her when she arrived. According to Sally, she knew I wouldn't want to take the time off work to pick her up on a regular basis.
Now you're probably thinking I got suspicious because our sex life was suffering, but that wasn't really the case. Actually the night she returned from one of her jaunts were becoming some of the hottest sessions we had.
And that WAS one of the things that got me thinking. She was becoming 'inventive' some of those evenings. Some of the little quirks became part of our regular loving.
What got me really thinking about this a couple months ago was realizing that she wasn't available when I tried calling her in the evenings. She always called me just after our usual dinnertime here, but didn't answer the phone if I tried to get in touch with her later, say at 9:00 or 10:30. In one instance I tried calling after midnight and still couldn't connect with her.
She told me she was getting really tired after the flights in and the long days working with clients and giving demonstrations. According to Sally she just wasn't answering the phone. If I left a message she called me the next morning at work, usually around 8:15 just after I got to my desk. Needing to get some rest after the arrival flight was the reason she gave for flying out the day before. She told me she wanted to avoid the hassle of the late night flights after a long hard day of demonstrating to the public; that was why she was staying over the extra night. They all made sense, more so if I assumed she had little interest in being home with me.
I felt really crappy about the doubts I was having. Yet I couldn't help wondering what was really going on those three nights that she was gone and couldn't be contacted. I cared for her, a lot. And except for this, Sally had given me no reason to doubt she loved me. But this progression was eating into me badly. I was jealous, and letting it get to me, but it seemed to me there was reason. I couldn't put it out of my mind and it was beginning to affect our relationship whether she understood it or not.
Finally I decided I had to satisfy my doubts, get the monkey off my back so to speak. But there was no way I could let Sally know my doubts. If they were groundless she would be really pissed at me for questioning her. If there were some substance to them, she would be pissed, and scared. In either case the 'wonder what's' would still be there and nothing would be changed, except that my wife would be mad at me.
It seemed to me necessary for me to satisfy myself that my fears were hogwash. Still, she couldn't know I was doing it.
So when this last trip was scheduled, I arranged a few days off with my boss. Then I told Sally I needed to visit one of our suppliers on the days she was going to be gone. I promised to call her at her hotel the time we usually talk, as I would likely be gone overnight and wouldn't be home to take her phone call.
Sally was flying out late that afternoon to Phoenix. I booked a flight leaving that morning and arrived enough before her to settle in a room at the hotel where she always stayed. After changing into clothes she wouldn't recognize I drove my rental car back to the airport. When she walked off the airplane I was near the gate in a nondescript outfit, wearing a loud baseball cap and reading the National Inquirer.
A tall, distinguished man met Sally as she exited, giving her a very affectionate hug. I recognized him, having met him at a company banquet a couple years before. He owned the local distributor for the cosmetics line that Sally was going to demonstrate. Letting them go ahead of me I made my way to the baggage pick-up area and watched them gather my wife's suitcase from a distance.
Easily beating them to the hotel where Sally and I were both staying. I changed my shirt, and slipped on a sport coat. When my wife came in, I was sitting off to the side in the hotel lobby and watched her check in.
After getting her key, the two of them got in the elevator together. The man looked like he had already put in a long day, his hair was mussed and didn't seem to want to stay in place. He looked tired, but he also looked very glad to be with Sally. They and another couple were the only ones on the elevator when the doors closed, and I watched the floor numbers; the elevator stopped at the fourth and fifteenth floors. So I now new Sally's room was either on the fourth or fifteenth floor. I guessed hers was on the fifteenth, she usually wanted a room with some kind of a view.
Forty-five minutes later the two of them were still up there, which had me gnawing my knuckles. But this was a working trip after all, and it was not unconceivable the two of them were handling details of Sally's 'performances' for the next two days.
Checking the time, I saw it was 6:15 where we lived and a bit late for my evening telephone call. Going to the bank of pay phones, I dialed the hotel and asked for my wife. The phone rang at least ten times before the operator came back on the line to tell me my party wasn't answering. My stomach was churning as I put the phone down.
Walking over to the gift shop, I picked up a book on the newest fad in self-improvement, grabbed a local newspaper and went back over to sit where I could watch the elevators. Almost three hours later I recognized the man who had gone up with Sally as he came out of the elevator. He looked nicer than he had when he met her flight. In fact the man strutting through the lobby looked like a man who had just freshly showered and was perfectly rested. His hair was perfectly in place, and even looked a trifle damp. He certainly didn't look like a man that had just spent four hours discussing business.
Telling myself not to jump to conclusions I tossed the now read book on self-help in a trash can and walked over to the pay phones to put in another call. There was still no answer from Sally's room.
Going to my room I got ready for bed, then lay and stared at the ceiling. I'm sure I got some sleep that night, but I have no idea when or how much. It seemed to me I tossed, turned and stared at the ceiling or out the window all night long.
After taking my shower the next morning, I used a washable hair color to change my looks and dressed in a style my wife would not associate with her husband. Going back to the lobby, I used the pay phone again to call my wife's room. Again no answer, but I left a message that I had tried to call, and would be away from the office today, but would call her tonight after I ate. I knew her working day would be spent taking care of real business, not funny business, so I spent the day sightseeing the city.
That afternoon I was again in the lobby when Sally came back. I watched her get into the elevator alone. Then sat down to wait.
After giving her twenty minutes to get settled I moved to the pay phones and called her room. She answered almost immediately, sounding slightly out of breath.
After saying she loved me, Sally told me she had just that minute returned to her room from a rough day. We chatted about our days, mine pretty fictitious. She told me she was really worn out and was planning on a quiet dinner in the hotel, then going to bed to maybe read. But whether she read or not, she was going to get to bed early as she had a hard day of demonstrations tomorrow. I told her I had tried to call her the day before. Sally explained that she was met at the airport by the man who owned the firm distributing their products in the Phoenix area. They had gone directly to his office and she had not checked into the hotel until quite late. She warned me she might not be back to the hotel until late, our time, tomorrow and not to be disappointed if she wasn't in when I called tomorrow evening.
Feeling unsettled after that lie, I sank into my seat in the lobby to read the paper before going in to eat. My mood was totally spoiled when the elevator opened forty-five minutes later and Sally stepped out of it on the arm of a man I had never seen before.
They were chatting and joking, flirting pretty openly, and he gave her a very familiar pat on the ass just as they turned away from me and headed for the parking garage. My rental car was parked on the one-way street in front of the hotel. Hurrying out to the car, I climbed behind the wheel and waited. From where I was sitting I could see the exit to the hotel-parking garage. Five minutes later I recognized Sally and her escort as they drove out.
Pulling carefully out behind them, I followed them to a steak house outside the city. Parking, I waited while they ate dinner. That was the first time I realized I had not really expected to find her running around since I had made no preparation for eating while on stake out. I knew I was pretty depressed when I found being on stake out at a steak house moderately funny.
It was an hour and a half wait before the two came out. They were giggling and loud. Pretty obvious to me that my lovely wife had been downing a few drinks with her meal.
My evening just went downhill from then on.
They drove to a loud bar. After giving them ten minutes to get settled, I followed them inside where I moved to the bar Sitting where I could see the room. They weren't hard to spot, being probably the loudest couple in the place. Sally and her date danced, drank, openly necked, and acted like the life of the party. Everyone seated near them was pulled into their fun, and it looked like one big party. One thing was obvious, my wife was well acquainted with her date.
Sitting quietly at the bar, I tried to nurse my drink. To my utter astonishment a very attractive woman sat down and struck up a conversation with me. She was funny and nice, but something didn't quite fit. Somehow I picked up that she was working for the bar, checking out potential troublemakers. I didn't fit in with the hard drinking clientele and it was her job to stop a 'scene' before it started. She finally scoped me out as a lonely man, trying to recover from a broken heart. One of the things she tried to do to cheer me up, was point out the happiest couple in the room, my wife and her date. She told me the woman had been in here a few times alone, but just three weeks before Randy, the guy she was with, had been the one taking her home. She had seemed pretty unhappy and lonesome herself back then, but just look at them now!
I thanked her for her help, told her I felt better and that I'd best go home and get myself a good nights sleep now. She had helped a lot.
I drove back to the hotel, changed clothes again and decided to go get a cup of coffee at the hotel coffee shop. I happened to be sitting where I could see the elevator banks. Not fifteen minutes after I sat down I saw Sally and her date step into the elevator on the way up to the fifteenth floor. Before the doors shut, she had her arms around him and the last I saw of my wife that night, she was engaged in one of the most erotic kisses I had ever seen. When the doors shut the crew behind the counter in the lobby were snickering to each other about the display. There was serious question whether they were still vertical by the time they reached the fifteenth floor. I guessed Sally wanted to show him the view.
Now that I knew her date's car, I headed to the parking garage, and found it easily enough. Shining my key-chain flashlight in the windows I spotted a manila business envelope mailed to Randy Hansen. Now I knew her date's name, for what good that did me.
Just for the hell of it, I headed back to the payphones to look in a Phoenix area telephone book. Sure enough, Mr. Randy Hansen was listed. The listing was for Randy and Barbara Hansen.
Looking at my watch I saw it was after 11:00, but dialed the number anyway. It took seven rings, but a woman finally answered. I asked her if I could talk to Randy. She told me he was out wining and dining some muckitymuck from one of his accounts and she didn't expect him back until the wee hours of the morning. I apologized, and told her I had a problem, but hadn't realized how late it was. Telling her I would catch him in the morning I hung up.
Now I was pretty steamed and dialed Sally's room on a house phone. It rang a dozen times before I hung up. Going up to my lonely room, I waited another twenty minutes and called her phone again, letting it ring. Waiting a half-hour I dialed it again and let it ring again. Then I waited another half-hour before dialing again.
About the twelfth ring Sally picked up, sounding slightly drunk and very pissed. Talking through a wash cloth over the phone, and trying to sound drunk, I made an indecent proposal. Sally gasped, and I heard the phone being grabbed from her. A man's angry voice came on the line warning me to leave the lady alone, or he would kick my ass.
I paused, and then went for it, "Oh! Sorry Randy, I didn't realize you were the one with Sally tonight. Give her my regards, I'll talk to her later." And then hung up and went to bed.
Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night either. The next morning early I decided there was nothing more to be gained hanging around Phoenix. I checked out early, probably before my wife was up. Driving to the airport I caught the first plane going my way and was home by 1:00PM.
That evening I made no attempt to call Sally. If she were out, nothing would be gained; if she were in my not calling would give her something to think about.
To my surprise I was wakened early from a restless sleep by a taxi stopping out front and Sally lugged her bag inside. I met her in the living room as she was hanging up her coat. She stood looking at me a moment, looking very tired and upset, then rushed over to throw her arms around me. I gave her a perfunctory hug, burying my face in her neck so she wouldn't be able to kiss me.
"Good grief, this is quite a change of schedule, your boyfriend toss you out?" I asked as we drew apart, trying to sound like I was at least half joking.
"My boyfriend lives here," was her reply as she squeezed me harder. "Can I talk him into coming to bed with me?"
"You must be tired Sally, why don't you try to get some sleep," I told her. "I was just getting up to make breakfast. Do you want something to eat before taking a nap? You aren't scheduled to get in town until this afternoon so they must not be looking for you at work. Take the opportunity to get some rest for a change. I've noticed these business trips take a lot out of you."
Sally looked at me carefully, "Nothing to eat, honey, but I could use a cup of tea while you eat. What's the matter, you seem pretty distracted?"
"Well, we have to talk, Sally. But let me eat first. Sure I can't get you something?"
Though I had no appetite, I figured I'd better eat something now. The way my life was going I wouldn't be any hungrier later, and if I waited until my appetite was back I might starve to death. Putting tea water on, I made a batch of scrambled eggs, along with sausage and toast. While I was waiting for the sausage to fry, I poured orange juice for both Sally and myself.
Sally sat silently, sipping her tea while I ate. I knew we would be talking soon, but it was something I was not looking forward to doing. My mind was made up on what I had to do, I just didn't want to do it.
After I managed to eat the tasteless meal, I sat back and looked at my wife. She was still one of the most attractive women I had ever met. Bright, intelligent and witty, she had been a joy to be around all these years.
It was times like this I missed smoking. Neither of us really wanted to begin the conversation and the business of handling a cigarette, or even better a pipe, would have been very comforting now.
Finally I said, "We have to talk, Sally. Let's go in the living room and get comfortable. Better yet, go take a shower and get the travel off you, then come back when you are ready."
Sally silently got to her feet and headed to the bedroom, taking her suitcase with her as she went. When she came back in her robe, she looked fresher but there were worry lines and shadows on her face I hadn't noticed before. She looked at the clock, "Aren't you going to work today?" she asked.
"No, I'm pretty much taking the week off," was my reply.
She glanced sharply at me, putting a lot of things together.
We sat silently for a few minutes, each studying the other, each reluctant to talk.
"Sally, did you know Randy is married?" I asked.
She flinched, and her face got a little paler. We sat and looked at one another a while longer.
"What was his name?" I began again. "Your contact with Lady Cosmetics... wasn't it Conrad... Conrad Jones? I remember you telling me one time he was gay. Is that right?"
Sally flinched again, taking a ragged breath. Her eyes big and staring at me.
She still hadn't said a word. I let the silence jangle on. It was getting louder and louder in the silent living room. Finally I mentally shrugged my shoulders, and decided to get it over with. This was not something I was looking forward to doing.
"Honey," I said, looking at the floor, "I love you, probably will always love you. But I can only believe you don't want a marriage, at least to me."
Sally gave a harsh gasp and started to talk, but I just ignored her and kept talking.
"We discussed what we thought marriage meant before we ever got serious back when we were dating. At the time, I thought I was making a male concession to your womanliness. We agreed that when two people make a lifetime commitment it was a covenant. No open marriage as such a marriage obviously meant a major part of that which was part of the promise was being withheld, constancy, chastity, call it what you may. Our thinking then was that each partner must be committed to fulfilling the others needs. If that couldn't be done, we agreed we had to talk. If those needs were agreed to be reasonable we felt the one not performing must be unwilling or unable to really commit themselves to the marriage. If one partner couldn't or wouldn't meet the others needs it would be time to seriously consider whether we should stay together." I raised my head and just looked at her.
Breaking into sobs, Sally buried her face in her hands. "Vernon, I love you! Please, I'm sorry! We can talk and you can help me! Please, Vernon!"
"Sally, have I not met any of your needs? Have I been an inadequate husband?"
She violently shook her head no.
Tears were coming to my eyes, now. I tried to ignore them.
"Sally, I trusted you implicitly. I wonder now how long it took me to wake up, but I'm sure you have been using your trips for 'excitement' for some time. I'm not asking you to tell me when this started. I certainly do not want a history. How long you have been stepping out doesn't really matter. The fact that you have been does matter. I couldn't believe the evidence I saw, and was so ashamed at my doubts that I felt I had to prove my suspicions false."
"Sally, I was there when Conrad Jones met you in Phoenix. I saw you get on the elevator. I was the one that placed those calls you didn't answer, and I saw him walk out of the hotel many hours after the two of you went up to your room. He looked refreshed and like he had just stepped out of the shower. The next day you told me he was never in your hotel room." Looking at Sally, I watched the tears streak down her cheeks.
"Sally, I was in the lobby when I called you night before last, when you told me you were so tired you were going to go right to bed after having dinner in the hotel restaurant. I was in the lobby maybe forty-five minutes later when you came down with Randy. I was parked in the steak house parking lot while you were having dinner with Randy, and getting a bit smashed. When you went to the bar I followed you in and watched you dance and make out with him. A woman there pointed you two out as such a grand couple. She said he had picked you up the trip before this one, and it was so marvelous to see two people so much in love. I was in the coffee shop when you and he went in the elevator. Everyone that saw you two was wondering if you got to the room before you had sex, most of it out loud and snickering. I checked out Randy's car, found his home phone number and called Barbara, his wife. She told me she was holding the lonely fort down while he wined and dined an important client. It was I who made those annoying phone calls while you were 'performing' for Randy in your room. I was the one Randy threatened with an ass kicking for disturbing a lady. What time was that, Sally? It must have been 2:00am." Then I just sat and looked at my wife.
Her face was ashen, and tears were flowing down her cheeks. "Vernon, oh god I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did it! Please, it will never happen again. You are my husband; you are my love. We have built a life together, and that is what I want. Our life together is real life to me. Somehow I thought what I was doing was play and it would never be part of my real life. What can I do to make it up to you? Anything, just tell me!"
"Woman, I can't think of anything that could to it at this time. You got bored and your curiosity for someone else's little fleshy tube made you betray me completely. A man invades a woman with that tube. When we say he 'takes her' it is appropriate. You have told me many times to 'take you', to invade, to conquer you. When a woman spreads her legs, she is opening herself up to his invasion of her body. There are some women who act the dominatrix. They in effect are assuming the traditional male role. That is not you, you have been allowing yourself, my most precious 'possession' to be owned by another man. I have carefully, sometimes it seems painfully, kept my vow to you and have kept your man solely yours. I agreed, and still agree that the man is every bit as much a possession of the wife as the woman is of the man. I have kept that vow."
Looking her in the eye, I added, "I have to ask, Sally. You have never indicated I was less than adequate in bed; or in any other areas of our life together for that matter. You led me to believe it would be impossible to satisfy you more than I could, yet you have introduced some refinements to our sex life. I don't find that bad, but I wonder now where you found those new little touches. Have I really been inadequate for you?"
Sally sobbed, "No, Vernon, never. You are the best lover I have ever had. I just got bored being away so often. Please honey, what can I do to make this up to you? Just tell me. I will never do anything like this again! It was just something to fill the time, it just happened. I love you, have never loved anyone but you. I don't think I could ever love anyone but you."
"Sally, I can think of nothing now that would allow me to trust you. Thank heavens there have been no children. I will be moving out as soon as I can find an apartment. Luckily for us, we have been living on one of our salaries and banking the rest so there should be no financial pinch for you, or me either for that matter. But now is not the time to discuss splitting our assets. For the record though, when that time comes I would like to make a fifty-fifty split."
I drew in a shuddering breath, "If you are serious about trying to repair the damage to the marriage, we can keep in contact."
Continuing, "If you are serious about somehow saving our marriage, don't date. I won't make any such promises for myself, but you already know I can keep my pecker in my pants. At the moment the idea of any kind of 'relationship' with anybody makes me feel cold all over. Your track record for staying off your back is a whole lot worse."
"Sally, I'm going to go out for a walk. I can sleep in the guest bedroom until I find an apartment. Maybe later today we can go to the bank and set up separate accounts, at least for savings. But we can work out the details later, if you want."
Then I grabbed my coat and left the house for a long walk. I didn't want her to see my tears.
*********************************
Sorry about the lack of sex, but it didn't seem to fit in the story. And it seems a lot more powerful without it. If you have read any of my stuff in the past you already know the sex is there if it fits. Those who like Troubador stories don't read it for the sex but for the emotions.
This point seems a logical point to stop; I really don't see any way to repair this union. Some of you will disagree. As with all my stories, I am eager to hear your input.
I've said this before, a dog licks the hand that feeds it, but the same dog also licks the hand that beats it. Let me get my licks in whichever way you think fits.
the Troubador