What it was like to come with her. I can't remember what it was like. I remember holding her close while we fell asleep. I remember kissing her neck. I remember her orgasms, but it had been so long since I had one with her that I literally can't remember what it was like. This is not something I'm blaming on her - it was a problem but not anybody's fault.
How funny that we'd end up inverting the usual scenario; the wife/girlfriend who complains of not having come in over a year. We never were a typical couple; she was a lesbian when we met, for beginners.
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Hello. I just wandered in here from the Pavillion...following intelligent threads backwards, I guess you could say. I've read a few of your earlier posts, and you sound like you could use...something. A friend. A hobby. A pat on the back. A pet.
Here's a pat on the back, friend. A wish you well. I'm a man, so I can't pour out my heartaches to you...it's against the rules, you know that! Without structure, societies crumble! (I couldn't bear to have that on my shoulders)
You have enough sadness for both of us. And if your ex is listening, then clearly you were not the sadist in this relationship!
So, I'm a stranger, and a strange stranger to boot, but you are crying out for help. I can't refuse, having passed within hearing. Whether it is indeed help, only you can judge.
You are educated, clearly intelligent. Perhaps a bit self absorbed, but who isn't, really?
Read this, then stand up. Turn off the computer. Yes, that's right. Off. Take a walk, or better, a run. Do some situps, pushups I don't care. Something to get your heart beating besides compulsively downloading porn.
And get a job. I don't care what kind of job...if you can't get a job, find someplace to volunteer-a hospital, (preferebly one at which you have not been detained against your will) a senior citizen center (in case you aren't depressed enough), anything involving Other Human Beings Not Digitally Filtered.
So, sorry to come across like a gender stereotype, but I am the product of my environment. Or, at least, an environment. I'll be back to look in on you.
So, how 'bout those Mariners?
Many thanks for the kind words and sage advice, J.
I do get out as often as I can, and your advice to do so is excellent indeed.
It is true that I've been kind of beaten up by "traumatic life circumstances", as some of the depression inventories put it, in the past several months. I think I'm through the worst of it, but man it's been bad. Part of what makes it bad is the fear of it being worse, if that makes any sense.
Anyway, some small progress on the job front. Whether I dare risk my heart again I simply can't think about right now - I clearly need not to hand it over anymore, but I don't know how to keep ahold of the damned thing once it starts beating in time with another one - it just flies out of my hands to go join the other one. Stubborn things, hearts.
It's the Dodgers for me, and they're doing just fine right now. ;) Thanks again.
Life can suck, my friend. That is true. So far, I am convinced that it is preferable to the alternative, though.
Those traumatic events are killer, though. I've had a few, seemingly arriving in clusters...I won't elaborate, but you are not alone.
I have been blessed, or cursed, with the ability to totally not give a shit, in the darkest of times. It's probably a pathology of its own, but, understandably, I DON'T CARE.
I count my blessings, such as they are.
In reality, though, I have been unbelievably lucky, in spite of my death-defying lifestyle choices. I am older than you, I have adult children and a woman who loves me despite my many, many idiosyncracies. Foibles. You name it. I got it.
Anyway, I'm glad I stopped in here and dropped you a few words. Sometimes, all you need is to know that somebody gives a shit, huh?
And, if I can be so bold as to let you in on a secret you should already know...women like bastards. I don't know why. So hang onto your heart. That's the last thing that should go.
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