TWO
Thursday. 6:15pm. After sound check.
Sound check ran late. Technical difficulties ensued. I feel bad for the opener because he barely has enough time to tune a guitar before the doors open.
I don't concern myself with such matters. My head is in my phone almost instantly, inconspicuously trying to hide my screen from any possible passers-by who might see. Eagerly, I pull up the app and I scroll the wall until I see her. She doesn't disappoint me. I can't hide my smile as she thanks me in all caps. I've made her day, she says. That makes me feel good. She knows. She knows I saw her. She knows I paid attention to her. She knows I did what she asked me to do.
How does that make me feel?
I feel different. I'm addicted to this feeling, I'm not sure what to do with it. I've indirectly communicated with her. I've gotten a
message across to her. And she's thrilled. I like that word, thrill. It's a good, descriptive word. It completely describes the feeling I have right now. It's a thrill. A rush.
This is insane.
I put my phone down for a moment so I can look around at my surroundings and find my grip on reality. It's not going well. Just because it's online doesn't mean this isn't reality, right? She's human, too, sitting there looking at a screen just like me. Why can't that be reality, too?
Except I still don't want it to be real. The rush, the THRILL, I get from this mystery online exchange is a feeling I don't want to lose.
But her show is coming up soon. I'll surely see her. How will that change things?
_____________________________________________________
Friday. 2:12am. Traffic jam.
How in the hell is there a traffic jam at two in the morning?
Apparently there's a wreck that's closed some lanes of traffic. I guess traffic is heavy here in the middle of the night on a weekend? Who knows. What I do know, though, is how dreadfully annoyed I am at how this sudden obstacle seems to wire everyone else on the bus. Everyone's awake, milling around, trying to see what there is to see, asking questions that will never be answered, and
complaining about being late to the next city.
I hate having that possible risk of someone jerking my curtain open and disturbing me or seeing me cruising the app, which I happen to be doing right now. I smile. She's on now. She seems to be up late at night, like I am. Is she an insomniac? Does she work third shift? Does she just prefer to be up at night? I realize I don't really care what the answer to any of those questions are. The fact that she's online right now is enough for me.
She asks a generic question and I feel like she's baiting me again, but I'm not sure. Scratch that, I pretty much know she's not, which disappoints me, admittedly. She asks, "So how was tonight's show??" I know some of her online friends were at the show and I know she's referring to them. But I prefer to take the question personally. It's more fun that way.
Nobody's responding to her and that bothers me. How could anyone ignore her? Even I can't ignore her and I don't even know her. I decide to play hero again. I like communicating this way, even though she doesn't know it's happening. I'm certain she won't see the correlation going on, but I know there's correlation and that's enough to satisfy me for now.
I take to Twitter. I check the notifications. I smile more. She's been active on Twitter tonight. She's favorited and retweeted and tweeted us. Tagged us in the conversations about us she's having with her friends. Talking about tonight's show. Speculating. It's
amusing I admit and--what's this? A new notification. She's tweeting right this second!
If I'm going to do this, I have to do it now. I tweet generically. "Awesome show tonight, you guys rocked! Thanks for coming out!" I throw some hashtags in there and hit send.
And then I wait. She doesn't know it, though. She doesn't know that I watch. She doesn't know that I wait. She doesn't know that I depend on her.
It doesn't take long. Within minutes, she favorites and retweets. She noticed...
Suddenly I rush to the app wall. It doesn't take much scrolling since it's late and no one is hardly posting.
There's a new post from her. She noticed. She's fangirling. Normally I hate fangirling but for some reason I find it cute coming from her. I like making her smile. My heart pounds at the tiny burst of adrenaline I get from it. "Seriously? Two coincidences in one day? I say something and Taylor posts? I'm dying!!"
She noticed. She noticed me and she's happy.
She knows.
She knows.
She does know...right?
___________________________________________________
Friday. 9:23am. Airport.
I've had next to no sleep and I'm dragging ass. It doesn't matter, though, because my wife is about to enter the terminal at any minute and the thought gives me the pick-me-up I need. I miss my wife. I miss her like crazy and there's nothing I would trade in
this entire world for the time I'll get to spend with her today and the loneliness that I won't feel.
I start to fidget in anticipation and the coffee in my cup is already nearly gone. Finally, after what feels like years, I see her bright smile among the people she's crowded in the middle of and I rush to her, not able to wait any longer to take her in my arms. She smiles. She's happy to see me, too.
We spend that day together, away from the band. We have a day off today and I'm happy that I don't have to move any of our plans around to accommodate the band.
We finish lunch at an outdoor café and I'm waiting for her to come out of the restroom as I fiddle around on Instagram. Suddenly
she startles me as she peeks over my shoulder at my phone. I had no idea she was there. My heart pounds.
"Hey, let's take a picture!" she suggests, excitedly.
Anything to keep me from feeling like I've just been busted even though I was on my own account. I don't think twice about it when I smile and agree to her suggestion, happy for the distraction. We snuggle together close and smile as I snap the picture. Mindlessly, I post it on Instagram and put my phone in my pocket and we leave the café to explore more nearby novelty shops.
____________________________________________________
Friday. 3:32pm. Vintage clothing store.
I hadn't exactly imagined spending our day together shopping, but I admit that I'm grateful to be sitting here while she tries on clothes, enjoying the brief peace and quiet, away from the hustle and bustle of the busy outdoor world.
I don't know what exactly compels me to do it, but I have the sudden urge to check the app wall. I can't describe the rush flowing through me, knowing I'm checking up on HER while my wife is mere feet away from me. It feels wrong but it feels so good at the same time. Because it's my personal secret. It's my personal mystery that only I know about.
And HER. She knows. By now I'm convinced she has to.
My heart instantly sinks as I see what's going on, on the app today. Apparently I've sparked something that I hadn't actually thought through before I did it. My picture with my wife that I posted on Instagram has upset her and it shows. She seems to have started a
trend in response and I can detect the sarcasm in her posts at a glance. She posted a picture of her and her boyfriend with a caption that says, "Since Taylor seems to have declared today 'Love Your Spouse Day,' here is a pic of me and my man!"
The post seems to have influenced countless others and everyone seems to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Except HER. I know what hers was about and I'm suddenly sorry. Just yesterday I had made her happy and now one mindless mistake has changed that?
Why am I so concerned about this? Why is it even such a big deal?
Quickly, I check Twitter, Facebook, Instagram--she's covered all the bases. All of them. A Twitter conversation has started so quick my head feels like it's starting to spin. She raises a good point and I can't believe I can actually understand her point of view. She understands I am married, she says. But she doesn't need the reminder. It's unnecessary to the music.
I agree. I can't believe myself but I actually agree, except that I believe she's using the music as a scapegoat. She has to be. I'm actually surprised she's expressed such a bold opinion in such a public form as that one was, but at the same time I'm not surprised, either. I should be pissed off about this. I should be annoyed and I should call her completely immature and selfish and disrespectful--except that I can't because for some reason I respect her opinion just so goddamn much.
How do I remedy this? And is a remedy even necessary?
_____________________________________________________
Friday. 4:24pm. Walking through a courtyard.
I decide that a remedy is necessary and I've figured out how to do it. I look over at my wife, walking beside me. How did this happen? I had been so excited for her visit, and I'm still excited that she's here, but now SHE has also invaded my time and my
mind.
Again, how did this happen? My little social media addiction is a private one that I only partake in, in my own, personal, quiet time. How is it that I'm allowing it to suddenly invade my everyday life?
Just one more post, I decide. Just one more and I'll put my phone away for the rest of the day, I swear it. We pass a series of pink rose bushes and I pick the lushest one to stop and snap a picture of. My wife loves that I'm taking a picture of the flowers. I smile. After all, making everyone happy is what I do!
Satisfied with the rose bush picture, I prepare to post it on Instagram and I decide to add a caption. "A picture is worth a thousand words." Simple. Cliché. The fans won't read too deep into it over their fawning, so I'm not worried about it.
I hit the button to post, nervous that SHE may not understand it. But whether she does or not, this is the best I can do. I'm satisfied with it. There's no reason she shouldn't be, either.
Obeying myself, my phone goes back into my pocket.
____________________________________________________
Saturday. 1:48am. Airport.
This is what I hate about touring--how fucked up our schedules are. My wife couldn't even spend the night on this trip. I hate that she has to have this round-trip plane ride in less than 24 hours like this. She says it doesn't matter and she's happy to spend any second she can with me. I believe her but I know she's exhausted. I feel terrible about it.
After saying our goodbyes, I sit in the cab on the ride back to the truck stop where the bus awaits my arrival. I waste no time taking advantage of the time alone and I fish my phone out of my pocket. This time I skip the app and go straight to Instagram. I click the picture of the rosebush and fish through the literally hundreds of likes and comments to see if she has participated. She has. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as I see her name on the list of "Likers." She also commented. "Beautiful," she simply says. Just one word. Beautiful.
What does that mean? Did she get it? Does she understand? Does she know? That was my way of apologizing to her, did she pick up on it??
I go to the app and scroll back several hours. The fans are talking about the picture of the rose bush, speculating whether I'm into gardening or not. Does she weigh in her opinion? She doesn't. She seems unusually silent over today's events. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!!
Is it supposed to mean anything? Am I over-analyzing something, trying to force something to be there that isn't? I truly am crazy, aren't I? Something is wrong with me, I just know it.
Disheartened, and not understanding why, I aimlessly meander to Twitter and then to Facebook. There's virtually no action from her anywhere and that disappoints me. I thought I had done good with the rose bush. She simply didn't get it. And even if she had, what did I expect to come of it? Seriously.
Something on her Facebook catches my eye and causes my heart to pound a little, the familiar rush coming back. According to her status message, she was at the beach this weekend. Maybe she's been busy. Maybe that's the reason for her silence. Maybe it
actually has nothing to do with me. Maybe I'm over-reacting over this imaginary girl.
Except that she's not actually imaginary, technically. And she's at the beach this weekend. I smile. Will she post pictures?? I could only hope.
My heart races at the thought as the cab pulls up to the truck stop. I really need to get over this social media thing.
Thursday. 6:15pm. After sound check.
Sound check ran late. Technical difficulties ensued. I feel bad for the opener because he barely has enough time to tune a guitar before the doors open.
I don't concern myself with such matters. My head is in my phone almost instantly, inconspicuously trying to hide my screen from any possible passers-by who might see. Eagerly, I pull up the app and I scroll the wall until I see her. She doesn't disappoint me. I can't hide my smile as she thanks me in all caps. I've made her day, she says. That makes me feel good. She knows. She knows I saw her. She knows I paid attention to her. She knows I did what she asked me to do.
How does that make me feel?
I feel different. I'm addicted to this feeling, I'm not sure what to do with it. I've indirectly communicated with her. I've gotten a
message across to her. And she's thrilled. I like that word, thrill. It's a good, descriptive word. It completely describes the feeling I have right now. It's a thrill. A rush.
This is insane.
I put my phone down for a moment so I can look around at my surroundings and find my grip on reality. It's not going well. Just because it's online doesn't mean this isn't reality, right? She's human, too, sitting there looking at a screen just like me. Why can't that be reality, too?
Except I still don't want it to be real. The rush, the THRILL, I get from this mystery online exchange is a feeling I don't want to lose.
But her show is coming up soon. I'll surely see her. How will that change things?
_____________________________________________________
Friday. 2:12am. Traffic jam.
How in the hell is there a traffic jam at two in the morning?
Apparently there's a wreck that's closed some lanes of traffic. I guess traffic is heavy here in the middle of the night on a weekend? Who knows. What I do know, though, is how dreadfully annoyed I am at how this sudden obstacle seems to wire everyone else on the bus. Everyone's awake, milling around, trying to see what there is to see, asking questions that will never be answered, and
complaining about being late to the next city.
I hate having that possible risk of someone jerking my curtain open and disturbing me or seeing me cruising the app, which I happen to be doing right now. I smile. She's on now. She seems to be up late at night, like I am. Is she an insomniac? Does she work third shift? Does she just prefer to be up at night? I realize I don't really care what the answer to any of those questions are. The fact that she's online right now is enough for me.
She asks a generic question and I feel like she's baiting me again, but I'm not sure. Scratch that, I pretty much know she's not, which disappoints me, admittedly. She asks, "So how was tonight's show??" I know some of her online friends were at the show and I know she's referring to them. But I prefer to take the question personally. It's more fun that way.
Nobody's responding to her and that bothers me. How could anyone ignore her? Even I can't ignore her and I don't even know her. I decide to play hero again. I like communicating this way, even though she doesn't know it's happening. I'm certain she won't see the correlation going on, but I know there's correlation and that's enough to satisfy me for now.
I take to Twitter. I check the notifications. I smile more. She's been active on Twitter tonight. She's favorited and retweeted and tweeted us. Tagged us in the conversations about us she's having with her friends. Talking about tonight's show. Speculating. It's
amusing I admit and--what's this? A new notification. She's tweeting right this second!
If I'm going to do this, I have to do it now. I tweet generically. "Awesome show tonight, you guys rocked! Thanks for coming out!" I throw some hashtags in there and hit send.
And then I wait. She doesn't know it, though. She doesn't know that I watch. She doesn't know that I wait. She doesn't know that I depend on her.
It doesn't take long. Within minutes, she favorites and retweets. She noticed...
Suddenly I rush to the app wall. It doesn't take much scrolling since it's late and no one is hardly posting.
There's a new post from her. She noticed. She's fangirling. Normally I hate fangirling but for some reason I find it cute coming from her. I like making her smile. My heart pounds at the tiny burst of adrenaline I get from it. "Seriously? Two coincidences in one day? I say something and Taylor posts? I'm dying!!"
She noticed. She noticed me and she's happy.
She knows.
She knows.
She does know...right?
___________________________________________________
Friday. 9:23am. Airport.
I've had next to no sleep and I'm dragging ass. It doesn't matter, though, because my wife is about to enter the terminal at any minute and the thought gives me the pick-me-up I need. I miss my wife. I miss her like crazy and there's nothing I would trade in
this entire world for the time I'll get to spend with her today and the loneliness that I won't feel.
I start to fidget in anticipation and the coffee in my cup is already nearly gone. Finally, after what feels like years, I see her bright smile among the people she's crowded in the middle of and I rush to her, not able to wait any longer to take her in my arms. She smiles. She's happy to see me, too.
We spend that day together, away from the band. We have a day off today and I'm happy that I don't have to move any of our plans around to accommodate the band.
We finish lunch at an outdoor café and I'm waiting for her to come out of the restroom as I fiddle around on Instagram. Suddenly
she startles me as she peeks over my shoulder at my phone. I had no idea she was there. My heart pounds.
"Hey, let's take a picture!" she suggests, excitedly.
Anything to keep me from feeling like I've just been busted even though I was on my own account. I don't think twice about it when I smile and agree to her suggestion, happy for the distraction. We snuggle together close and smile as I snap the picture. Mindlessly, I post it on Instagram and put my phone in my pocket and we leave the café to explore more nearby novelty shops.
____________________________________________________
Friday. 3:32pm. Vintage clothing store.
I hadn't exactly imagined spending our day together shopping, but I admit that I'm grateful to be sitting here while she tries on clothes, enjoying the brief peace and quiet, away from the hustle and bustle of the busy outdoor world.
I don't know what exactly compels me to do it, but I have the sudden urge to check the app wall. I can't describe the rush flowing through me, knowing I'm checking up on HER while my wife is mere feet away from me. It feels wrong but it feels so good at the same time. Because it's my personal secret. It's my personal mystery that only I know about.
And HER. She knows. By now I'm convinced she has to.
My heart instantly sinks as I see what's going on, on the app today. Apparently I've sparked something that I hadn't actually thought through before I did it. My picture with my wife that I posted on Instagram has upset her and it shows. She seems to have started a
trend in response and I can detect the sarcasm in her posts at a glance. She posted a picture of her and her boyfriend with a caption that says, "Since Taylor seems to have declared today 'Love Your Spouse Day,' here is a pic of me and my man!"
The post seems to have influenced countless others and everyone seems to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Except HER. I know what hers was about and I'm suddenly sorry. Just yesterday I had made her happy and now one mindless mistake has changed that?
Why am I so concerned about this? Why is it even such a big deal?
Quickly, I check Twitter, Facebook, Instagram--she's covered all the bases. All of them. A Twitter conversation has started so quick my head feels like it's starting to spin. She raises a good point and I can't believe I can actually understand her point of view. She understands I am married, she says. But she doesn't need the reminder. It's unnecessary to the music.
I agree. I can't believe myself but I actually agree, except that I believe she's using the music as a scapegoat. She has to be. I'm actually surprised she's expressed such a bold opinion in such a public form as that one was, but at the same time I'm not surprised, either. I should be pissed off about this. I should be annoyed and I should call her completely immature and selfish and disrespectful--except that I can't because for some reason I respect her opinion just so goddamn much.
How do I remedy this? And is a remedy even necessary?
_____________________________________________________
Friday. 4:24pm. Walking through a courtyard.
I decide that a remedy is necessary and I've figured out how to do it. I look over at my wife, walking beside me. How did this happen? I had been so excited for her visit, and I'm still excited that she's here, but now SHE has also invaded my time and my
mind.
Again, how did this happen? My little social media addiction is a private one that I only partake in, in my own, personal, quiet time. How is it that I'm allowing it to suddenly invade my everyday life?
Just one more post, I decide. Just one more and I'll put my phone away for the rest of the day, I swear it. We pass a series of pink rose bushes and I pick the lushest one to stop and snap a picture of. My wife loves that I'm taking a picture of the flowers. I smile. After all, making everyone happy is what I do!
Satisfied with the rose bush picture, I prepare to post it on Instagram and I decide to add a caption. "A picture is worth a thousand words." Simple. Cliché. The fans won't read too deep into it over their fawning, so I'm not worried about it.
I hit the button to post, nervous that SHE may not understand it. But whether she does or not, this is the best I can do. I'm satisfied with it. There's no reason she shouldn't be, either.
Obeying myself, my phone goes back into my pocket.
____________________________________________________
Saturday. 1:48am. Airport.
This is what I hate about touring--how fucked up our schedules are. My wife couldn't even spend the night on this trip. I hate that she has to have this round-trip plane ride in less than 24 hours like this. She says it doesn't matter and she's happy to spend any second she can with me. I believe her but I know she's exhausted. I feel terrible about it.
After saying our goodbyes, I sit in the cab on the ride back to the truck stop where the bus awaits my arrival. I waste no time taking advantage of the time alone and I fish my phone out of my pocket. This time I skip the app and go straight to Instagram. I click the picture of the rosebush and fish through the literally hundreds of likes and comments to see if she has participated. She has. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as I see her name on the list of "Likers." She also commented. "Beautiful," she simply says. Just one word. Beautiful.
What does that mean? Did she get it? Does she understand? Does she know? That was my way of apologizing to her, did she pick up on it??
I go to the app and scroll back several hours. The fans are talking about the picture of the rose bush, speculating whether I'm into gardening or not. Does she weigh in her opinion? She doesn't. She seems unusually silent over today's events. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!!
Is it supposed to mean anything? Am I over-analyzing something, trying to force something to be there that isn't? I truly am crazy, aren't I? Something is wrong with me, I just know it.
Disheartened, and not understanding why, I aimlessly meander to Twitter and then to Facebook. There's virtually no action from her anywhere and that disappoints me. I thought I had done good with the rose bush. She simply didn't get it. And even if she had, what did I expect to come of it? Seriously.
Something on her Facebook catches my eye and causes my heart to pound a little, the familiar rush coming back. According to her status message, she was at the beach this weekend. Maybe she's been busy. Maybe that's the reason for her silence. Maybe it
actually has nothing to do with me. Maybe I'm over-reacting over this imaginary girl.
Except that she's not actually imaginary, technically. And she's at the beach this weekend. I smile. Will she post pictures?? I could only hope.
My heart races at the thought as the cab pulls up to the truck stop. I really need to get over this social media thing.