The Culture that has been here all the time

Yes, I am a widower who was married to my late wife for more than 40 years. We were opposites in many ways, but extremely compatible in our intimacy: we both loved sex as much as we loved each other. In the BDSM world, there usually is a Dom and a sub. My wife was the quintessential sub. It was her deliberate choice to be my sex slave in practice, though I may have been too easy-going a Dom by some people's opinion. Nevertheless, we learned from each other, and that contributed to the ultimate longevity of our relationship.

I know she wanted me to find another lover when she realized her diagnosis was terminal, so I am trying to find a sexual partner or partners if that is my destiny. Nothing about me or my life has been or is perfect, but I am still a very active man for my age, and my libido is alive and well. Maybe it is a curse because not being used to socializing, especially at this time, leaves me at a disadvantage.

I am trying, and I am determined not to give up.¹

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(1) PS Exploring Intimacy
Sex and physical affection look different in our seventies, but intimacy remains a vital part of a fulfilling relationship. Natural bodily changes and health conditions are common. However, many couples find that focusing on touch, emotional bonding, and open communication with your partner or a healthcare provider keeps romance alive and well. AARP

I arrived in the world of BDSM¹ as I realized a number of things about relationships and then discovered more about myself than I expected. Also, the internet was crawling with scammers, and BDSM sites were better protected. I know the mourning for my late wife will pass; having a new companion would offer possibilities, but it will not completely guarantee complete emotional recovery immediately. 

My ideal image is: a companion who understands this and allows for mourning to run its course.

Each day I experience something new, most unexpected feelings. Usually, I am in balance with reality and my hopes. Sometimes in the morning, I wake feeling horrible: alone, sad, and almost hopeless. As I retired last night, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed with sadness: I realized I could not have saved my wife, nor could I time-travel and make some aspects of our past better.

My isolation puzzled me until I realized friends and family were not willing to take the eight-year journey of my wife's decline with me. Frozen in not knowing what to do or how to help. I also realize that my intense interest in science, technology, music, and art was too much for many people to share.

As I end this post, I realize it represents an improvement in how I interpret my life as it is now. A step in the right direction.

1 More realistic and honest about relationships and especially sex.

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 Sure, there are a lot of miles on me, but that means I have a great deal of experience, ladies. I see my host of regular mechanics (doctors) religiously take their prescriptions to keep a used-up old man more youthful than you might expect. I also had a great deal of time to consider many things in life as I cared for my late wife for eight years.

Life has few guarantees, but the odds are in my favor as my family genes regularly produced nonagenarians, and I have yet to become an octogenarian.

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So quantum physics reports that plants use superposition when engaged in photosynthesis, and migratory birds use quantum physics to navigate when they migrate. I suspect it won't be long before it is discovered that humans determine their soul mate using quantum processes in our brains. Maybe even love at first sight?

I sure could use a soul mate at this point in my life. I even was hoping we are already entangled at the quantum level.

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Why irony hits so hard
Irony works because it exposes the gap between:

what we expect
what reality delivers
And that gap is where humor, frustration, or insight lives.

I have been affected by irony too often in my life. When things turn out well, that is great, but when things go wrong. I become perplexed and confused. I like to reflect on my early teenage years: I tried to imitate pop culture: Blue suede shoes, black leather jackets, playing guitar, and singing. Yet the amazing thing was? Every girl I liked didn't like me, and the girls I didn't like liked me. This situation didn't clear up until later, when I began performing regularly in New York City with a band I created. Like a child in a candy shop, I wound up causing problems out of ignorance. Eventually, I had normal experiences of marriage, divorce, children, and remarriage. My marriage to my late wife was more than forty years. Most of that time, I got by in life by making mostly the right assumptions and decisions. Here I am, old, still functioning well, living the life of a widower. Every day, I discover something about that situation and something about myself. The most significant self-revelation? Despite some faux claim, I wanted to be a hermit; I truly believe I am not meant to be alone, but I am.

I have a great deal of interests and experience to share, and I have softened my hard-line misanthropy; like a swimmer putting one toe in a cold lake, I want to swim with people and seek a compatible companion to share this phase of my life.

This is worth my breaking my silence. My cat Sunny Day loves it when I play my guitar and sing to him LOL.

I am 78, but as active as if I were 70. There is a lot of mileage left in this old guy. Certain places where I see people in my age group are: 1. old-age homes, 2. Hospitals, and 3. senior centers. Throughout history, families and communities were a blend of all age groups. My family used to be like that, but it seems less common in our country over time. Just two decades back, when my late wife and I belonged to a large church, if someone died, the widow or widower was immediately supported, even to the point of a rapid remarriage. It seems contrary to what I thought, but it seemed a new spouse was waiting in the wings when one was nearing their demise. Even this is not enough to send me back to religion. I keep repeating I want a companion, but not at the price of my integrity. pixabay pix

Dearest Muse,

I, for now, must love you in my imagination. You are with me when I rise and have my morning coffee, let the dog out in the backyard, and feed my cat. Together we survey the calendar and plan our day. We see which chores must be accomplished and whether we have any appointments.

Without warning, you put your arms around me and say, "I love you." I pause and say, "I love you more." We laugh together.

We are grateful and happy to have another day together.

Maybe we'll shop for some fresh food or take a ride through the hills, forest, and farms. We will stop occasionally to talk to animals close enough to the road.

I hold you in my heart and cherish you wherever you are at this very moment.

Love

Andron (image pixabay)

For most of my life, I have been honest to a fault. No, I am human despite my brother's, some of whom think I am an alien. I did smoke pot in my teens, and I drank alcohol starting around fourteen, when I also began smoking cigarettes. I stole some food when my mom was raising me and two of my brothers. I took a tool now and then. What am I trying to say? I am real.

I began to understand as I was aging, and my wife's disease was surely taking her away from me. Not in death long before that. I knew I did not want to end my days alone. I began to look for a woman to love and love me. So here is the real me too.

I still look young for my age. I am active, and my mind is very sharp. My capacity to love a woman has increased with life experience. BUT: I have survived congestive heart failure since 2005 and continue to do so with healthcare. I abstain from alcohol, which affects me negatively in more than one way. I wear hearing aids. My left eye has a cataract beginning to form. I have arthritis here and there, so I use those joints to keep them working, but the most challenging is that I probably need my right hip replaced.  

So if a muse and lover wants me despite all that, you have to take me as I am. pixabay image

I had a surprise dream last night. I had friends visit me, we jammed a few old songs, played chess, and I was slightly better than I used to be. After a while, I introduced them to a couple of my favorite BBC TV programs. We did have pizza and drinks, including some cola (a treat since I usually just drink soda or water with lemon). We talked endlessly about the weather. The biggest surprise? They told me they would visit once a week.