Category Archives: Love and stuff

Empty And Haunted

10 Friday Jan 2020

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I woke up a little before Two. The bedroom is too hot. That happens because of where the air handler and strip heat are positioned in the heat pump configuration.

But I was having sexual thoughts. Hence the feelings of emptiness and of being haunted by the past. Memories of the passion the dead ex-wife and I shared early on unsettled me. It grew to be a horrendous relationship. And I blame myself.

I will be 69 years old in twelve days. Time to move on to other things. But no. Sex, tied up as it is with human loving, doesn’t work that way. This tension of being loved, but not in the way my soul and emotions need grinds me down.

Maybe I can fall back asleep in a little bit.

Feelings Return

21 Saturday Dec 2019

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I am waking up. And as I awaken, I begin to feel and then to trust my feelings. That sounds, at first hearing, like so much psychobabble. But depression and grief deprive me of joy. I literally punish myself with negative feelings until I determine that I have suffered long enough. Crazy? For sure.

Yesterday brought friendship, good food, exercise, Christmas preparation, albeit limited. The grief and loss went on hold, but have not left. I went to bed expecting the dynamo of activity to keep humming Friday.

And yet…. I got tired. And then the fear of backsliding into the pit of sloth, unfulfilled sexual longing, of good humour descending into unending riffs on those hated Christmas tunes, Frosty The Snowman, and Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer. I perseverate on those ditties, to J’s dismay and, I suspect, chagrin. I see myself sinking into curmudgeonly crankiness

I was set to swim again tonight, but I admitted to being tired. (Oh No, not that!) I slept, because I needed that sleep more than I needed a workout. And now I look forward to tomorrow and swimming. The activity will continue, with an interruption.

The weekend will restore J and me. We will prep the house for a canine visitor. #1 son’s pit bull Lila*, will stay with us while he and Roberta, his wife, go to Philadelphia for Christmas. J and I will do stuff together because she has actual time off from work. I need this time with her. I will let her know.

*Lila is the sweetest dog one could ever hope to meet.

Morning’s End

12 Saturday Oct 2019

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We are five minutes away from noon on a strange morning for me. I have a hunger, not from the belly, but rather the heart.

I feel what is missing, an embrace, a gift of time. We two have not been one far too long as the fissure broadens to a gap.

How did we get so busy?

How did we let fear win?

Why did we choose to risk….

nothing?

Awake at Midnight

21 Wednesday Aug 2019

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Sexual Content. Be Advised.

I was so tired last evening, I went to bed at 8:30. I slept for four hours, had a dream in which I spanked J, her skirt raised, she was wearing pantyhose, nothing else, and in the dream, I did not feel like rolling them down to expose her naked buttocks. This is pretty explicit, as far as my dreaming goes, The spanking took place in my old apartment, where we first made love.

So thoughts are bubbling up. That I went up early means something. That I was with her, rather than downstairs channel-surfing YouTube, is the other main point.

Talking about sex is still the Mount Everest of our marriage. We have to climb that mountain together. The big deal for me now is I have to not be nice. Talk about climbing Mt Everest!

Daddy/little girl

13 Tuesday Aug 2019

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I mentioned in a comment that I had a light bulb moment around J. It’s taken some thinking and dot connecting, but I believe she is a “little”. She likes me to take care of her. At one point, she had a stuffed lamb and a stuffed bunny, plus some Beanie Babies© and the Taco Bell© Chihuahua. (¡Yo quiero Taco Bell!) When she was a little girl she had two Chihuahuas, Spot and Chico. I gave her some refrigerator magnets with a Fun With Dick And Jane theme that she loved. Her favorite television shows are nostalgic, sweet, and sentimental, Andy Griffith, The Waltons, Little House. Green Acres, I Love Lucy. The appeal of The Bachelor is its naïve theme of falling in love, kind of the way a thirteen or fourteen year old girl would imagine it to be. She likes her cookies at night.

Doing the income-earning thing is not her cup of tea. She comes home exhausted not merely from the physical demands, but by all the requisite “adulting” that comes with the job, I suspect. She likes Sudoku puzzles. I’m wondering if she would like to color. I think she is probably 12-13 in her little persona.

I realize this is probably an amateurish and incomplete assessment. But I notice I feel like her “Daddy” a lot. Her own father was a good and decent man, a soldier, very much of a modern day knight. She would never, ever, have “sexualized” him, but I don’t think she gets she has this hidden, inner need that is not a true Daddy-daughter relationship, but a working framework whereby love is expressed.

She put her stuffies away, off the bed. Since I make the bed most mornings, I wonder what would happen if they found their way back?

I don’t think I would have reached this conclusion without the help of Jadescastle at The Chrysantthemum and The Sword and Mrs McDaddy at The Succulent Savage. Thanks.

Evening Ramble

09 Friday Aug 2019

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Today, J and I did stuff together when her work day was over. We did mundane stuff like go to the gas station, then a late lunch, then to Target to pick up drugs for me, (my regular maintenance drugs, nothing cool), and then to my semiannual psychiatric visit.

Lunch was at Red Lobster. We both had wood-grilled shrimp on a skewer. They were pretty good. The server was a nice guy. His amiable personality was worth the price of the meal. Target was a quick trip. I like this particular Target, because it’s where The Tattooed People shop and I wanted to check out the ink. One woman had a nice half sleeve but I couldn’t get but a half way glance.

Then to the psychiatrist. We drove through parts of the City/County area that were undergoing new construction in both political subdivisions. There was this ginormous thing with very tall nets that were part of a golf thing. I don’t play golf, so I didn’t know such a structure was being built.

In Virginia, hard liquor sales are a state monopoly. We drove by the liquor warehouses, that will be relocated and a fancy new ball park will be put up on the old site. Ramshackle abandoned buildings have been razed to make way for Wa-Wa convenience stores.

We arrived at the offices, part of VCU’s new pediatric mental health facility. The old one was built in the 1960’s and looked like it used blueprints for a facility built somewhere in the old Soviet bloc. It had a certain gulag quality about it. If the kid wasn’t crazy when he got there, he would have been shortly thereafter.

The new facility is modern, spacious, clean and cheerful. It was money well-spent. The building, even in its lobby and waiting area reflect hope. My pediatric psychiatrist has mostly pediatric patients, but I have seen him since my younger son was his patient. It’s an accommodation that works. He’s a good guy. I’m honest with him And it’s a good relationship. He is about my age.I told him I had some despair that seemed to be related to inactivity and sleep deprivation. I will track my physical activity and my sleep patterns to see if the issue resolves itself. If not, we will reassess the meds.

J and I drove home. She is exhausted from her work schedule. She is resting. I’m writing.

Funny how attitudes can shift quickly if one is committed to one’s partner.

I had a mango/ Greek yogurt smoothie with a little coconut milk, wheat germ and maple syrup. It is all I wanted for dinner.

A train pulled in on the YouTube channel. It discharged passengers in Ashland on its way to Richmond.

Tired.Bedtime.

Life. And Then There’s Life.

08 Thursday Aug 2019

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There is the way we would like things to be and there is how life is. We plan, daydream, fantasize or simply dream in our sleep. Then we wake up in the morning or afternoon or even in the evening. We remember those dreams. Sometimes the dreams aren’t nightmares, but when they feature firearms in a display of rebellion, they aren’t exactly the kind of dreams where I wake up with an erection (assuming you are male, females, insert the appropriate physiological response).

I have hit something of a barrier. It is probably no taller or more substantial that that little boundary fence on a cricket pitch, but for me, right now, it’s like the Great Wall of China.

It comes down to this, the difference in how I spend my time doing what I do versus what I want to do. And, of course, hitting the “Reset” button for the change of direction has to be a massive, all at once shift, complete in its totality. This attitude is a prescription for failure.

So I interrupted writing this post to fix J’s lunch. I made more Waldorf chicken salad, sliced some more strawberries, and staged the other components for packing in her lunch kit.

I accomplished something.

I do like writing. I actually like writing erotica. It isn’t quite the same as making love, having sex or fucking. Among those three I think there are distinctions. I’m not up for discussing the differences tonight.

J is upstairs watching those twin brothers, Drew Scott and Jonathon? Scott on HGTV. They are OK, as far as house people go. I am watching the dusk creep in on the railcam scene in Ashland. A train eventually will arrive or pass through.

Hmm, J and I are different. She has to be at work tomorrow at 0430, (0 dark 30). So she’s winding down to go to sleep. I get it.

She plays a mental chess game with herself, around me, wondering what I’m going to do or say and hoping what she does or says won’t upset me. That isn’t exactly setting the stage for spontaneity. I will bring that up. Then again, I have to work on the phrasing, because she doesn’t take criticism well.

“Never go to bed with someone whose problems are worse than your own.”- Nelson Algren.

Desire In Four Paragraphs

01 Monday Jul 2019

Posted by in Erotic Writing, Love and stuff, Uncategorized

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Sometimes I have the energy to put down a lot of words that may seduce another into the vacuous dreams of my adolescent fantasies, aged within an old man’s brain.

Alas, today, there is no room or time or energy to tempt another with conjured delights of skin on skin, lips on skin, lips on lips, genitals in congress, or moans and cries of ecstasy.

There are in my head, a thought and a yearning of pleasure, a dream that you will be free of all the craziness that enslaves you, just as I shed the construct of my loneliness

And, for once, in your life, you won’t care what time it is, or where you have to be tomorrow.

Home After Swim

12 Sunday May 2019

Posted by in Exercise/ Fitness, Love and stuff

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I slept real late, maybe noon. I decided lying down most of the day might help my neck/shoulder issues. I think it did. The pain is not bad at all. I also thought a swim would help. That too was beneficial. My goal around treatment is to do as much as I usually do using ice and heat, as needed to manage the inflammation.

Every time I decide that over the counter NSAIDs aren’t giving any pain relief, I have a day where they’re working. Go figure.

J is moping around because she has no biological children. I love her. She gets that. Still, with all the over the top Great To Be A Mom rhetoric and displays today, it is hard not to feel left out. I’m fixing dinner. Hope that helps.