A night out

Matthew couldn’t decide.  Blue shirt, check shirt or plain white?  None of them were lucky shirts, just shirts.  Purple pants and matching purple socks, that decision had been made, and the darker jeans, but the shirt, that was more difficult  

He went with the blue, his mum had always told him that blue brings out his eyes, so that’s the one for tonight.

He slipped his boots on, grabbed his keys and left the house. 

Since this split he hadn’t really had much of a social life  not that he was a social butterfly before, but after the separation and subsequent house move he really wasn’t keen on going anywhere

He still worked from home, so there really wasn’t much of a need to go anywhere  and other than picking his kids up every other weekend he often wondered whether there was much necessity for a car.  But some days he would just drive and see where he ended up, found a cheap hotel and trundled home the next day.

Home.  It wasn’t home.  It was a rented house, mostly someone else’s furniture and absolutely not home.  He’d been there for 8 months, three weeks and 2 days, and hated every minute of it.  There was no novelty, he’d been in the spare room for over 5 years before it came to this, and he couldn’t bear it any longer and felt he needed to leave. 

He drove without any music, too distracted to sort any out and almost got lost as he wasn’t really concentrating but managed to find the bar, his sat nav doing all the real work thankfully.  He’d organised a room at the nearby Travelodge, just in case he got too drunk or too tired to go back to the house.  It was just a drink with some old work friends, so no pressure to stay or go, some knew about how his marriage had imploded, most didn’t and he wasn’t going to explain to anyone.

He chucked his overnight bag on the bed, looked at his tired face in the mirror and went to the bar.

He had to admit, it was nice being out and among friends  a great distraction from his mundane existence lately, yes he’d been existing and just going through the motions of his day to day routine and not living.  A few drinks later, and he was finally feeling relaxed for the first time in months, away from his work schedule and the repeat thoughts every night that he’d done this, he’d created this situation and it was what he deserved.  But tonight he felt almost free of the guilt and shame that pushed him into himself and tortured his thoughts.

She seemed to have come from nowhere, he hadn’t seen her all evening but there she was, looking across the room at him, he had checked a couple of times and she was looking at him.  He looked away, and returned his attention to Chris and their debate over which comedic duo were the best, Matthew was of course extolling the talents of Reeves and Mortimer whereas Chris, with a slightly more conventional sense of humour was on the side of Hale and Pace.  Worthy candidate indeed, agreed Matthew but Bob is a genius and Vic, well talent doesn’t come close.

With empty glasses it was Matthew’s round, and as he approached the bar, he saw her in the corner of his eye  she got up from the table of friends and walked towards the bar, right towards him.

A bit shorter than him with dark slightly wavy hair, just past her shoulders and a satisfyingly fuller figure, she stood quite close to him, he could see her brown eyes, and smell a feint but slightly floral perfume.

“Hi, I’m Dawn” she smiled, holding out her hand.   “Matthew, nice to meet you” he said, slightly taken aback with the directness, and confidence.

“So, Matthew, what brings you here tonight?” she asked with a wry smile that seemed more suggestive than inquisitive.  He thought about a glib response for a second, but chose to go with “Just out with some old work friends  we haven’t seen each other for a while so seemed like a good plan, what about you?”

“To be completely blunt” she said, “I’m out on the pull, not been here before and it looked like a lively place so thought I’d give it a try” A grim spread across her face.  She was attractive, but not in a typical kind of way, maybe something to do with her confidence but he liked her eyes and lips, and the way she smiled, she was the kind of woman that he liked, not your usual look, not overly made up, natural hair, and just….normal.

“Right, and how is that working out for you?” He almost regretted asking when her reply came, “Well, buy me a drink, and I’ll let you know”

It had been over 6 years since he had had sex.  In fact, since there was anything even vaguely relating to sex, but he was reeling a little from this encounter, and it appeared a little too obvious where this was heading, and many thoughts and feelings rushed through him at the same time.

Here was an opportunity that seemed too good to pass up, and attractive woman who clearly seemed to want to spend some time with him, and probably not do much sleeping, and a hotel room less than 5 minutes away.  He could feel excitement building inside him, feel a tingling sensation that hadn’t been part of him for a long time, a sense of something he couldn’t quite recognise.

Tonight he could actually have sex, with this woman, Dawn, who was casually drinking a gin and tonic he’d just bought her, smiling at him in what he was slowly realising was a rather seductive way.

In his minds eye he could see them, entwined together in the bed of the Travelodge, hot and breathless, exploring each other with their fingers and lips, he could feel her soft breasts against his skin, her smooth legs wrapped around him, her tongue doing magical things….

“Sorry, I really need the loo, I’ll be right back” he said.  She looked at him, clearly impressed that he was off to purchase some condoms, and she winked at him “Don’t be long”.

When he reached his room at the hotel, he made sure the door was firmly locked, he really didn’t want to be disturbed.

He got undressed, and went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, it had been warm in the bar, and he wasn’t going to get into bed without showering.

As the water ran over him, he put his head against the wall and began to cry.

It wasn’t sex he wanted, needed in fact, it was intimacy.  The feel of skin on skin, feeling two hearts beating together, the smell of her hair, her scent on her skin, the feeling of her arms around him.  It was that closeness, that comfort he needed, not a stranger in a bar, not another person that he may have got to know over time.  It was her, and only her.

He’d gone out of the bar, towards the toilets and found a route out that didn’t pass the bar or the front windows, and made it to the hotel unseen and alone.

He sent Chris a message telling him he had to go to bed, but not anything about Dawn, and Chris hoped his friend was OK, he knew the story and was good enough not to pry.

As Matthew settled down to spend yet another night alone, he wondered what might have happened, whether she was planted there to catch him out, or whether his estranged wife actually cared enough to set him up.

Either way, he knew he had done the right thing, that he wasn’t never going to be tempted by anyone and hoped, the way he did every night, that this would be the last night alone, before they were reunited.

Rather unsurprisingly when he woke there was no obvious sign of change, no message on his phone suggesting a meet up for a drink and a chat to resolve things.  He went into the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror, not too horrific for a 50 year old he thought.  Could still lose a few pounds and tone up, but he was OK with his ‘dad bod’, who needs a six pack anyway?

He brushed his teeth, got dressed and went to reception to pay, and left to find some inspiration for breakfast.

The view in the mirror didn’t deter him from pulling into a McDonald’s on the way back to the house, and he took a black coffee and a bacon roll back to his car and found somewhere quiet to have his breakfast.

He needed some proper time off, work had been relentless lately and seemed to be that way for the foreseeable future which in some respects was great, as his bills has increased significantly since moving out and managing rent and a mortgage and the bills for two properties, but there was no time to think either.  Even though he only had a small number of holidays a year, he rarely took them all.  But he had been trying to book time off to coincide with the kids holidays from school so the three of them could go away somewhere and spend some quality time together, they chose the location and the accommodation as well as most of the activities, and he made sure his work phone was left at the house.

Easter wasn’t far off, and for a treat he decided to book somewhere a bit different, still a lodge with a hot tub, as was the basic requirement but a bit further away than usual, so they could have a plane ride too.

Matthew was careful not to let his longing for her to get in the way of these trips, and not to make a scene when picking the kids up about why it was still not all four of them together and what the kids must think of this split.  He knew it was his decision to leave, but he couldn’t handle the living arrangements anymore.  He struggled to deal with being in the same house, so close to her in a physical sense but a million miles away emotionally.  Theirs was never a very tactile relationship but when they had been together and shared a bed, at least there was a goodnight kiss every night.  He missed that the most, more than sex, more than any other kinds of intimacy, just that simple kiss at the end of the day that said more than any words, that meant everything was OK, and that she loved him.

Loved him, past tense.  Not now, not anymore, at least no more than a close friend, just not the way he wanted her to.  The damage his words and actions had caused, the annihilation of trust over the years and his depersonalisation of her on one too many occasions without understanding the impact until it was too late.

The counsellor had helped him to realise that it wasn’t all one sided, and that there had been triggers, her behaviour towards him, the coldness that made him think there was someone else and his need to find out quickly, all down to past experience of being cheated on.  And that her childhood and teenage years had had an enormous and significant weight to the wider situation.  He didn’t blame her though, she didn’t make him lie about money, or about the spy camera he planted in the bedroom to catch whoever it was.  But there wasn’t anyone else, the pattern was the same as before, but the reasons were different, so it was all on him.

Breakfast over, he returned to the house to get prepared for work the next day and catch up on laundry.  With a load in the machine, he walked out into the garden with a mug of coffee and soaked up the early spring sun.  It was still cold, but a freshness had crept into the air in recent days which made his mood a little lighter, so he walked slowly while sipping at his coffee and drifted back to better days.

He sat on the small bench at the edge of the lawn and watched the leaves sway gently in the trees at the end of the garden, listened to the soft rustling and the sound of the birds, busily doing their morning rounds.

It is so different when it’s just you he thought, at least she had the kids with her, and the dogs, for company and keeping her busy no doubt.  No need for her to try to find things to do to occupy her time, she wouldn’t have a moment spare to give him a second thought.  Probably no malice in the near total lack of communication from her to him, just simply no time.  Even so, it didn’t make it any easier when there were no messages, and those that did arrive were requests or instructions and, as had been the case for almost 5 years now, no kisses at the end.  There were kisses on the end of message to almost complete strangers, but none for her husband of 15 years.

He poured another coffee and went back outside.  The air now had a bit of a bite to it, as though it was telling him to go indoors, into the warmth of the house and curl up on the sofa.  It hadn’t been a particularly late night, but he was tired and was still processing the previous night and the rather surreal meeting of Dawn.

Had she been put up to it?  It seemed so incongruous for someone to single him out in a reasonably crowded place and make such a blatant proposition.  Why him, why there and why then?  He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t accept it was a chance encounter and a legitimate one at that, nobody had shown the slightest interest in him for years.  Mind you, his wife had said a few times when they had been out in a social environment that he was oblivious to it when women been flirting with him.  He shrugged it off and took her word for it but hadn’t noticed a thing.

He quickly shook the idea from his mind and turned on the TV to see if there was anything that caught his attention, a multitude of channels, it could often take longer to find something to watch that it would take to watch it, but he settled for a old favourite that didn’t really need the attention he didn’t have to offer anyway, and within a few minutes he had drifted off into a fitful sleep.

After 20 minutes it was clear that trying to sleep on the sofa was never going to yield the results he was after, so Matthew got up and fetched his laptop, and within a minute had found what he was after, his Black Dog diary.

He had been writing this for about 10 years he was rather surprised to see.  It started after he had been diagnosed with depression by his GP and prescribed anti-depressants and some time after, his wife told him about a friend of hers that had learned about depression being referred to as The Black Dog, and rather than trying to muddle your way around it alone, you could talk to the black dog.  It gave the depression a degree of abstraction that elevated it from being wholly internal to something more tangible, more approachable in a way.  Matthew would write to the black dog, in a diary of sorts, venting his frustration, sharing his darkest thoughts and talking through how he felt.  The only rule was to not read it back, or share it, unless you were totally comfortable doing so.

There were some very dark moments in his diaries, some vitriolic comments about him, his actions and the hatred he felt towards himself in the earlier days.  Then there was the period after the separation, where he was completely lost and hopeless, and weeks would go by without a word, followed by pages and pages of guilt, fear and loathing.

Today was different though, he wanted to discuss last night and how it had left him feeling, as he needed to ‘verbalise’ it to some extent.

It wasn’t all bad stuff that went in there, there were days when he turned to the black dog as a companion, someone to just share thoughts with when there wasn’t anyone he felt would want to listen or was too busy or whatever he assumed would be the reason no one would want to talk to him.  So, he wrote to the black dog today and expressed his confusion and doubts about the true nature of the encounter.

The black dog didn’t provide answers or suggest any explanation, just allowed Matthew to let it out, no judgement, no raised eyebrows or rolled eyes.  It was catharsis of sorts, and just good to know that it was always there.

Today he wrote about the constant feelings of purposelessness, his detachment from his life, not just as it used to be, but now as well.  The days that feel so long and empty, despite work being a reasonable distraction, it was the waiting for a decent time to go to bed.

The only glimmers of hope were his kids and the times he spent with them.  So he could gather those thoughts and capture them in the diary so it wasn’t all bleak news, but those long hours and days alone, and no real view of the future were really taking their toll.

It was a few minutes before Matthew realised he was in tears.  The weight of the realisation that this really was it, this is the future hit him really hard.  The diary had once again created a response just like it should, prompted his ability to let out the feelings that were just under the surface.

Today was one of those times that he was grateful for being by himself, but also desperate for his wife to be there, to understand his pain and help them move through this, together.

The tears just kept coming, unabated and left to roll down his cheeks and dampen the edge of the desk.  The realisation that his needs will never be met again, not as they should be.  He knew that he would never experience the feeling of another person being close to him, skin on skin.  Never again would he feel the softness of lips against his, or how it feels to be enjoyed by another, taken inside them, to have their hands touch him.

Matthew finally stopped crying.  He just felt hollow and cold now, even more detached than he had before, because now there was nothing that could be done to change how this felt.

He couldn’t ask anyone to step into the breach, as it were, to be someone who he could call upon in his moment of need that would be that person to share such intimate needs with.  It wasn’t about just being seen or admired in a certain way, to know someone would see that side of him and provide affirmations.  It was far deeper a need than that.  The kind of need that could only come from someone who was willing and able to provide that level of closeness.

And, as of five years ago that person was no longer in his life.  

Over the next few days the depth of his darkness increased, so much so that he couldn’t get himself to face going outside.  Everyone would know he was a failure as a husband, that he couldn’t maintain relationships or keep someone satisfied, they would see it in his face.  So it was best that he stay away from people.  Groceries were delivered, the furthest he ventured was the end of the drive with the rubbish.

He hated himself for alienating her, for the breakdown of trust and the hurt he knew he had caused, for destroying something that may have been…..and it was then he woke up from his self pity.  It wasn’t all him at all.  It can’t have been just him.

The more he thought about it, the conversations, the accusatory words and criticism, the negativity directed at so much he had said or done, the more he knew it wasn’t all down to him.

He went to the bathroom and turned on the shower, and as the water run over him he resolved to not let her win again.  She had eroded so much of his self worth, his confidence and happiness that he didn’t recognise himself at all.  Where had his smile gone, his eyes that used to be so full of life, now dull and closed down, his open house where anyone was welcome.

OK, so there was a mountain to climb and even during the journey he knew there would be challenges, but there was no way she would control him even now, with this much distance between them.

He thought about his primal needs again, how so much of them were so important to him but meant nothing to others, to her.  He wasn’t going to get into another relationship, mostly for the sake of his kids as he didn’t feel it would be fair on them to have to deal with that.  He’d seen it with other couples who had split and the damage it did to the children, so no, that wasn’t going to happen.

It was as much for his own sanity too – cheated on multiple times, ruined his marriage because of his fears, his spending habits and lack of truth about them, the erosion of trust between them – but he knew even with none of those things being repeated, he couldn’t face having to go through anything like that again.

She whispered to him so the kids wouldn’t hear “I’d really like a massage tonight”.  His heart skipped a beat or ten, did she really just say that?  The kids were upstairs, gaming or chatting or watching Netflix, but occupied until the morning no doubt.

He made sure the bed was ready, clean and comfortable and the massage oil was warm so that it wouldn’t make her jump.  The candles were lit and the lights were off to ensure the whole environment was one of relaxation when she walked in, wearing a dressing gown.  She moved to the bed, and he held up a towel to protect her modesty as she disrobed and lay, face down.

Matthew placed a towel across her bottom, covering up enough but leaving sufficient skin to provide a good massage to her lower back, and the tops of her legs, but without allowing any part of her to be seen that shouldn’t be.

He worked gently across her neck and shoulders, her back and her legs.  Her skin so soft and smooth, he had missed this.  He was still fully dressed, and as much as he yearned to be naked with her, he kept his desires to himself, the time will come for that.

She seemed to be enjoying it, well, relaxing at least and not getting up and just walking out like he had expected her to.  When he had massaged her back and shoulders, and felt the tension fall away, he picked up a bath towel, and suggested she turn over, while he retained her modesty once again.  As much as he really needed to see her naked again, as much as that was in his mind, he kept this to himself till – after the massage she may be in a frame of mind to enjoy him too.

When she lay on her back, he placed towels across her chest and the top of her thighs and hips, and saw nothing of her fully naked.  He continued his slow yet healing strokes, her shoulders and arms, all the way to her finger tips, massaging her hands.  

As he moved along her long legs, he almost brushed her lips under the towel, but moved his fingers away – he so desperately wanted to be with her, to pull the towel away and explore her again, the way they used to.  All in good time, he told himself.

He massaged her feet, she had always loved that – he made sure he used cream to really provide the best feeling for her, leaving her feet soft, the way she liked them to be.

He made sure that he gave attention to her body, her slender arms and long legs – keeping his own feelings and needs at bay, she would soon pull him to her, and allow their lips to connect, the pain of the last few years to dissipate and they would discover each other again.

But instead, she had fallen asleep – probably the most relaxed she had been for some time, so it was hardly surprising.  He took the duvet that had been folded over, and in one motion drew it across her as he removed the towels, so at no point was her body fully exposed.  He blew out the candles, took away the oil, cream and towels and left the room.

Matthew woke up content, for the briefest moment.  What struck him more than having dreamt the whole thing, was just how easy it seemed to be for years of neglect to be erased by one tiny act that actually gave him so very little, but took more.  The smallest gesture was all it took to provide a crack in the wall, he felt so pathetic that even in his dreams he was still appeased so easily.  He got to give her a massage and for her to drift off to sleep and he got to go away again.

It wasn’t sex he needed.  It was affection he craved, to feel that he was cared for was one thing, but to feel the touch of someone who wanted to be with him, well, that was beyond reach.

But there would never be a massage, or even any level of reconciliation, and no amount of tiny pseudo gestures should penetrate the depth of emptiness within him.  There would never be a recognition of responsibility in any part of the journey from where they were to where they are now, and it is that recognition that was needed.  Not a hug or a kiss, or a “I would like you to give me a massage, so you can feel that there is something akin to hope, but actually I just need a massage and you can sort yourself out”, an apology perhaps?  

No.  None of those things would ever happen, there would be no acceptance of responsibility, no explanation given or opportunity to share the events that led to the destruction of the marriage, just that it was all his fault, from start to finish.

Matthew rested his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes.  It was time to let it go, to accept that this really is it.  Just too old for messing about, nobody would want to have a no-strings, friends with benefits style connection, no watching a movie together wearing nothing but a duvet and some dropped bits of popcorn.  His wants, dreams, fantasies – whatever they were, would never become a reality.  He smiled as he thought of one he’d wanted to do, go shopping for clothes, and both be in the changing room together.  Then, giggling just strip off and stand there for a moment, daring the other to open the curtain or door and flash the corridor, then just hug each other and get dressed.

Stupid really, it’s all just stupid.