How I went from passing out due to sexual exhaustion in Vegas to crying myself to sleep in Chicago, I don’t know but there I was, alone on Roxie’s couch, bawling into a pillow.

How I went from passing out due to sexual exhaustion in Vegas to crying myself to sleep in Chicago, I don’t know–but there I was, alone on Roxie’s couch, bawling into a pillow.

Heading into the trip, I knew something was wrong. Roxie had been enthusiastic about me coming to Chicago for her extended weekend off but by the time that weekend rolled around I could barely get her to respond to my text messages.

I offered to postpone my trip and told her I understood if she was too exhausted from her busy schedule to have a visitor, but she halfheartedly convinced me it was fine.

Turns out, it was not fine and in the end, neither was I.

I can handle rudeness. I can even handle rejection. But her apathetic disinterest in me cut past the bone and into my heart–the same heart that had just opened up for the first time in over a year.

On my first night in town–as I lay uncomfortably hanging off the edge of Roxie’s bed getting more cuddles and kisses from her dog than herself–I wondered if I had opened my heart in vain.

The spark between Roxie and I was gone and her shut-off coldness made it apparent that it was not coming back.

There were no cuddles, no caresses, no kisses and in the morning when I asked her what our plans were, there were none of those either. The weekend that had been jam-packed with special sites she couldn’t wait for me to visit was now as empty and barren as our relationship.
We sat on her porch, played The Game of Life, and barely held a conversation. At one point–in an awkward attempt at revitalizing our rapport–I went down on her.

Afterwards, when she didn’t place a hand anywhere on me, I felt even more unwanted than before.

Attempting to broach the subject of her obvious disinterest, I asked if she wanted me to show myself around town while she slept off the physical and mental exhaustion that was evidently encumbering her at the moment.

She apologized for being so lethargic and attempted to pass it off as life-related and not personal but nothing she said could make up for the lack of lustre in her eyes when she looked at me.

That evening, after some sightseeing and beer drinking, I moved to the couch and tearfully resigned myself to the fact that it was over between Roxie and me. Lying in bed with her had been so cold that the couch was a warm welcome and I was actually able to get a few hours of restless sleep.

The next day, things got better. We held hands a bit and lay on each other while watching a movie, but still, we felt like nothing more than close friends.

As friends, Roxie and I both made a solid effort to dig ourselves out of the depression caused by the loss of our spark and I even got a chuckle out of her when I sang “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” into the mirror while we got ready to go out that evening.
What would have been a romantic dinner turned into a friendly meal and there was no protest or awkwardness when I slept on the couch on my third and final night in her home.

The next morning, she came to me on the couch and touched me sexually for the first time since I arrived three days earlier. We moved to her bed and had sex that felt more obligatory than romantic, making me almost wish we had just stayed in the platonic realm and not even attempted to get back our sexual relationship.

Afterwards, we explored Chicago some more before my late night flight and I should commend Roxie for eventually showing me a wide array of Chicago life, making me love the city and its inhabitants. What she lacked in a romance she made up for in sightseeing and I actually had a decently fun time when we were outside of her apartment.

Yet still, when Roxie dropped me off at the airport, I was glad to be leaving town. I opened myself up to her, confessed my feelings and got shut out in return, something my stomach, heart and head did not handle well.

Once home–after a couple of days of writing and crying–I was able to collect my thoughts and address Roxie with the issues of the weekend. She genuinely apologized for hurting me and attempted to explain, again, that she was just emotionally and physically exhausted in life and that it was not personal.

I responded that whether my hurt self-esteem believes that or not is irrelevant. The fact remains that our spark is gone and there’s no way to get it back.

We cancelled our future romantic trips together and cut back on our frequent communication. It’s been painful, but it’s the right thing to do.

Rest In Peace incredible affair. You will be sorely missed.