Sharing Our Innermost Thoughts

If tonight was supposed to be a date night; swing and a miss.  Small swing, huge miss.  We went to a concert for a band I don’t like and music I don’t like.  It was 44⁰ and I am not a cold weather person.  I would have had a much better time just staying home, cleaning house.  But I bundled up and went, for him.  I didn’t enjoy, but I wasn’t unpleasant about it. I put in the effort, for him.  I swayed to the whiny music, for him. I joined the audience and stood and clapped, for him. What did he do? He sat about a foot away from me; if you didn’t know we were there together, you’d never know we were there together.  It was 44⁰, did he hold my hand?  Nope. Did he wrap me in his arms and keep me warm?  Nope. Did he scoot close to me and share body heat?  Nope. Did he acknowledge me at all?  Nope.  Even before the show, when we picked up the other half of our double date, he got out of the car and walked to the door, while I sat there waiting for him to open my door. Once he made it inside the house, I conceded that he wasn’t going to open my door, so I got out. But you can bet your ass he opened it for me when we got back outside, because then, he had an audience to impress.  He isn’t being rude.  In fact, he’s being perfectly cordial.  I feel like I’m married to a polite stranger.