The Culture that has been here all the time

Good morning, I slept well with over an hour of REM sleep because it turned cold overnight.  A week into spring, and I missed the start, but the flowers were not taken by surprise; they bloom around the neighborhood. Last night, winter clawed at my house and chilled it nicely. I have managed to pay the enormous winter heating bills, and since my late wife isn't here, I have little reason to keep the temperature as high as I used to.

Every day holds a promise or a surprise. I am counting on a positive in my life to manifest itself. There isn't a single reason other than a feeling. Maybe I am being too optimistic. I know that romantic visions of Europe persisted during the three years I lived in a village, which heightened my desire to recapture that romance. Alas, I no longer have the financial means to become an expat. Maybe if I win the lottery.

I look in the mirror and wonder if anyone could like that guy. I don't look as old as I am, and I am still self-reliant. My finances have recovered, and I use some of my time with music and art. Still thinking about how much garden I want this year. Still trying to motivate myself to put away and deal with clutter and remnants of the past that are not sentimental. 

I still miss having breakfast with a companion, but I wonder who would want a used car like me anyway. I really liked the Shortwave Radio in my old Simca because I listened to BBC news each evening at 18:00 local NJ time (LOL). (Pixabay photo)

Researchers and my doctors concur that I may be the last living Neanderthal. Why?

I endure the cold climates well, I have an urge to draw on walls, and I tend to be depressed. I found it hard to stop drinking alcoholic beverages, give up my hyena, badger, and wolverene pets, and most of all, prefer human females to neanderthal females.

Dear and lovely companion, wherever you are, Good morning. Your smile would brighten a rainy morning if you were here. I am about to make coffee and breakfast. Is there anything special you want? Though the sky is grey and the street wet, crocuses and daffodils are blooming. The Forsythia's yellow buds are more obvious this morning. Maybe this is the day we shall meet. (all pixabay)

Ultra Reality has engulfed me. When my wife was diagnosed with dementia, the first four years, we still could take a ride, a walk, shop, and have lunch together, even as her cognitive issues grew. By year five, that was down to rides to the doctor and fast food pick up to bring home, then by year seven I could only manage some of my doctor's appointments by hiring an aide to watch over her, and in the last three months, I relied on Hospice's help (so grateful to them).

I occasionally attempted to seek a companion, and the scammers destroyed my finances. Today, I am well on the way to financial recovery.

The rollercoaster of mourning is rough, though learning about the long goodbye helped a great deal. I live with my dog and cat, watch TV, play some guitar, sing for myself, and have begun working on some art. I have a hard time falling asleep even with melatonin, and I do have dreams, some of them not nightmares but unpleasant nevertheless. Last night I was startled to see an apparition.

I woke at about 2 am to my cat nudging me, and I saw a vivid image of my wife holding stuffed animals standing by my bedside. Ambivalent because I felt love and fear, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, she was gone.

I have been cut off from dating for forty-one years, but last night I decided I need to resume my quest for a companion. What did I do? I opened an account with eHarmony, feeling both awkward and hopeful. 

I have many positive things to share with a woman, and maybe the potential woman will have many positive things to share with me. I am not sure how to proceed, living in a town where I am still a stranger, with no friends and limited contact with family. I feel I have no choice. Yes, it costs money, and the first contact was without a doubt a scammer. I had her blocked. And, unsure of my dating abilities.

Here are two songs for my mistress, 1973 -1979, oh how much I loved her, and I know the love still lives in me after all this time (so true). My memories explode when I play and sing them again.

Quality sex when we were 18 and later in life (like me) is not the same. Anyone who thinks otherwise, let me know.

In the beginning, in the era of free love (every generation had a time like that), connecting to a lover was easy. So many people suggested males were in a hurry and intent on self-satisfaction. I encountered young women who were exactly the same. The next step was what I call the unquenchable phase: Young men AND YOUNG WOMEN seemed to have an insatiable appetite for sex.

Somewhere along the line, as a mistress I had for seven years, I had expressed "quality, not quantity, is what I want." I created a bumper sticker that reads "Good Sex Isn't Just for the Young."

The storms in life disrupt every good thing for most people; they seem unavoidable. There is always a workaround if you keep an open mind. I gave up, tried and failed, and passed through a storm. Now I am willing to try once more. In my mind, I am younger than I look. Let's go with that.

What is Your True Language? My wife was in physical contact, and in hindsight, so was and is mine. What are the implications?

"A person whose primary love language is Physical Touch feels most loved and secure through physical affection, presence, and accessibility rather than words or gifts. They communicate and receive care via hugs, holding hands, cuddling, and other intimate gestures, which can lower stress and deepen emotional connections.  The 5 Love Languages +3
Key Aspects of the Physical Touch Language:

Significance: Touch is a "love tank" filler, providing reassurance and safety, often connecting to early childhood experiences of being held.

Expressions: Typical expressions include holding hands, kissing, cuddling on the couch, sitting close, and, for some, sexual intimacy.

Negative Impacts: Neglect, abuse, or prolonged physical distance can be highly detrimental and unforgivable to those with this language.

Body Language: It often encompasses reading nonverbal cues, such as gestures, posture, and facial expressions, to gauge emotions."

I dare say the kink community is a community of physical communicators.

I now realize much of my anxiety and problems over the period I was my wife's sole caregiver (though I could hug and kiss her), and now as an isolated widower, is the direct result of being cut off from a companion/lover. The pain of isolation and the feeling of being extremely cautious about what to do is the theme I live with every day.

I was raised by my side of the family, which was religious. I was scolded for using scissors on Sunday. The list was endless, it seemed. Secretly, as I accepted the mandate of the family to attend religious classes, I doubted and rebelled.

When my father deserted us for the last time (he would return 25 years later, more about that later ¹), a priest brought us a basket of rutabagas, which we didn't know what they were. Jewish people, some holocaust survivors, helped us through the early years. Life really improved when my mom became a mistress to a man who was part of a nefarious life. After that, even the juvenile delinquents left my brothers and me alone. A very cinematic life (LOL).

Hypocrisy reigned, and I was fully aware of it. I navigated life, making my own mistakes. There were times I admit I stole food. I never intentionally harmed anyone, and if I had, I am truly apologetic.

I developed a belief that the only real sin was lying about love and cheating on a lover. I live an honest life, but that is still my driving philosophy.

There was a period of decades during which I studied the Bible because my wife was a fervent believer when she was diagnosed with dementia, and her religious friends vanished. I pressed reject and became irreligious.

One of my healthcare doctors suggested that all humans have a spiritual side that must be acknowledged. I turned to the North American indigenous peoples' belief in the seven grandfathers: each represents 1) Love, 2) Respect, 3) Humility, 4) Truth, 5) Honesty, 6) Courage, and 7) Wisdom.

¹If you watch the movie "The Apostle," the main character is very much like my father was (even speech) when he eventually returned. Only my mother and he, pretended they were never divorced and were married for sixty years.

This is me every morning since my wife died: "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get" is a famous quote from the 1994 film Forrest Gump. Why? I cared so much for my late wife and had taken care of her through a long illness that I wonder if I have burned out all my goodness because I feel so empty. I sometimes imagine she is in the next room and talk to her ashes in the beautiful urn I placed them in. Miescule comfort.

"AI Overview (Google)

Mourning a spouse after forty years of marriage is 
a profound loss involving the grief of a shared life, identity, and future. It requires immense self-compassion, as healing is a non-linear process that often feels like a "roller coaster of hell". Key strategies include seeking support groups, engaging in self-care, and taking life one day or minute at a time.  Reddit +4"

This morning, I do not seem to care about myself at all. Unmotivated. I force myself not to think of lovers and sex, of travels and dreams, and I barely force myself to play guitar and sing old songs. Thinking about doing some simple artwork, like sketching faces, as a challenge. Life's experience has taught me that it will go on unless I am met with a sudden death.

Can there be a new woman to love and love me? Right now, (this morning), I doubt it with no reason to think otherwise.

For many years of my life, I had a kind of compass that pointed me toward the future. Yes, a big part of that was having a loving and trusting wife. Even though I was her primary (no, solo) caregiver for eight years, I had purpose and a sense that I had accomplished something in my life. Poof, all that evaporated. Now I am left with confusion and seem to drift without purpose.

I have many interests and even hobbies (I could resurrect), but without someone to share the joy they once brought me, it seems pointless. Yes, I have mourned, and yes, I believed I made it past most of that because of "The Long Goodbye Effect", but no, it still leaves me empty (very empty).

Sometimes I feel antisocial, and I'm misanthropic (minus hate, however), which limits my comfort level in social settings, which doesn't help. Having been scammed a great deal doesn't help. Being disappointed by the church and family doesn't help. In fact, I am irreligious, left with only a sense of spiritualism, which I embraced when I researched Native American spirituality.

Here on "thecage" are the closest people I consider friends, and I am glad for them.  I hope to meet a woman here who resonates with me and my sensibilities, so we can be the companions we each need. My recent foolishness leaves me financially ok but with limited ability for travel. I own a house and live in a nice old town, but my interaction with locals is sparse. First, because of all the caregiving for my late wife, and now my reluctance to plunge into the local society and culture, I am not a native of. Ironically, during my army days, I fit in with local people everywhere I went.

What is in my favor? I have a great capacity to love and share with the right woman.