Well...Good morning

Okay, so this is maybe too much information. But I figure what the hell, if you’ve seen this blog, you’ve seen a lot of me.

I haven’t had sex in a while—too long, really. Like 6½ years. There are a couple of young ladies that I fooled around with in that 6½ years, but we didn’t actually “do it”...you know, fuck.

And I’m starting to feel a little hopeless.

I mean, certainly I’ve had sex with myself. But more and more that feels less and less satisfying.

I don’t even really try to meet women much at this point. I was never one to just go out to bars or wherever looking for women to fuck. That’s just not me.

The women I’ve liked are generally people I’ve met while working—in a show or whatever. Lately when I have become really interested in someone, it’s ended with a fair amount of pain and anger. It used to be that I found most women (and most men) to be stupid, shallow, boring...generally unappealing in various ways. Of course, now the longer I go without “getting any” the less that seems to be an issue, or the maybe the more I’m willing to overlook that. And I think that’s what’s lead to the pain and anger. Mostly it’s anger at me for allowing myself to get that interested in someone who’s clearly not right for me for whatever reason.

There was a woman I met about 3 years ago who I was just crazy about. I mean, I was just completely lost in my attraction for her. It was kind of insane. Anyway, she was the first person I’d really been interested in since I’d broken up with my ex a few years before (6½ years ago). Nothing physical ever happened between this woman and me. We just hung out together all the time. She was unhappily married and didn’t want to deal with it.

I tend to talk about stuff, put things out there on the table. But that didn’t happen, ‘cause she wouldn’t. So I got crazier and crazier. I wrote a bunch of songs and poems about her. Eventually I had to stop. Nothing was ever going to happen, and I just couldn’t be her friend. And it was making me crazy, obsessed. I had a rough several months after that. I just sort of went away, literally. I was sort of a hermit. I went to the beach for the winter, where I had no work and didn’t know anybody, didn’t meet anybody or interact significantly with anyone for 3 months.

The one positive thing about that whole experience—meeting that woman and how I felt about her—was the fact that, at almost 40 (then), when I’d sort of felt that I might never meet anyone I really liked again, I did. I REALLY liked her...loved her.

Similarly, the fact that I can still get it up means that if I do meet someone else that I like, I can still, you know, “do something about it”.

...at least for now.