Adapting to life without my wife since she passed away has been like experiencing a storm at sea that never ends. The only reprise is sleep. I love being asleep and rewarded with a pleasant dream, if any.
I always had dreams that I kept close, which helped me be optimistic. The dream of living in New Mexico dates back to 1968, when I served in the Army. The first year I was in El Paso and visited New Mexico. Family considerations, mostly remaining close to where my children lived, were the main constraint.
I guess with diminished resources and aging, the dream of New Mexico has morphed into a fantasy. It may be possible, but not probable. I would rather have a companion who shares the same set of hopes and dreams because, with help, they have a greater chance of being realized. I am thinking hard about what to find in a lover. I have mentioned before that I have not lived without one for at least sixty years.
My late wife opened my eyes to what loving freely sexually really meant. I miss her, of course. I have an anecdote that goes back about fifty years: my brother took me to a bar with exotic dancers, and one of the girls asked me what my sexual fantasies were. I had no answer. I was still young enough to think like a typical man: Imagining having sex on my terms.
We live and learn and can be taught things, as my late wife taught me about enjoying sex and being in love. We remained monogamous because we kept each other satisfied and feeling loved.