In the continuing saga of trying everything I know how to keep married and actually enjoy it, my spouse L. and I took a trip to Branson, Missouri, about 3 1/2 hours from home.  Our daughter R. was away at church camp and my son, B., was working full time and attempting to enjoy another level of freedom while we were gone.  (As luck would have it, B. got a nasty cold and was miserable half the week, leaving me to play catch up with household chores when we returned.)

L. had fussed and fumed about how unfair it was that her daughter was getting free reign to go and come this summer (at the infantile age of 16...) and why, she demanded, can't SHE go anywhere?  I pointed to the two mortgages, the doubling of gas prices and our five-figure balance of credit card debt as an explanation.  It didn't seem to do much good....  In the end, I opted for (and she eventually agreed) to a cheaper alternative than cruising the Caribbean for the seventh time.

Don't misunderstand me... I LOVE to travel.  It's probably one of the few things L. and I have in common much -- always has been.  But of course, when you are the sole breadwinner in the household working only one full-time job (which I think is becoming an anachronism nowadays) it can be tough financially.  I hope I know when to draw lines.  L. doesn't see the need.  After all, the kids don't need anything after we're gone anyway, right?

So the trip starts with rain and bank account problems and I am basically back in my usual depressed state.  The second day, however, appears brighter and we are able to do some things I actually enjoy -- strolling shops, interacting a little with people, having a nice lunch with a few drinks.  And all the while, L. is being "good" -- slow with her sharp tongue, courageous and patient in walking despite her MS that makes her fatigued and flushed.  We are wrapped up in what to do, where to go, what to buy, what to eat... the occupation keeps our minds from any big problems and turns to the mundane.  All in all, the trip goes without major hiccups and the money situation was worked around with (what else?) more borrowing.

Upon our return, and my daughter's return, R. says she thinks L. has changed.  At least her behavior has changed.  And I am forced to agree.  What remains for me, however, is that nagging emptiness deep in the pit of me.  It is a realization that whatever L. tries to produce in terms of "good works" or positive choices doesn't seem to help me feel better about our relationship. 

And even then, with her "good behavior" there are the kinks.  She's upset if I turn on the television even during the 10:00 news to catch the weather.  She's upset if I play the radio in the car.  We sleep in separate beds.  Our one attempt at intimacy falls apart before it can even begin (mind you this was our 24th anniversary and yes I DID take my Cialis).  She has to be constantly around me, with never a moment for myself.  And as usual, I must play my caregiver role with fetching things and massages and calm assurances as she moans and cries about her pain.  I know I sound like a terrible, insensitive jerk when I write these things.  It is because, frankly, I am... or more accurately, I have become one.  I am desensitized to other people's pain as well as my own.  Even the pain of someone who is closer to me than anyone else.

I am back at my routine now.  It feels better, more comfortable, this way.  I have to confess to being something of a workaholic -- a focused, driven man who demands from himself the best he can give to his clients and his co-workers.  And best of all, most of what I do, I can do in solitude.  The solitude is what I both crave and disfavor.  I like my times when I can be free to do what I want to do in moderation, without the hounds nipping at my heels.  And yet, I have a loneliness and desire to have someone, ANYone I could talk to about politics or philosophy or baseball or Ashton Kutcher or ... whatever, and not be given the brush-off thinking such talk is idle chat and uninteresting.  Someone who appreciates the true, core me and not the "me" they have created in their minds that I should be, that I MUST be.

I'm afraid the journey to reach that happy land is many, many miles away.