The Culture that has been here all the time

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.

I thought that if I went slowly into the future, one day at a time, things would improve; they have not.

Each morning, I find it harder to feel motivated to get up and navigate a new day. I know it has only been two months since my wife passed away, but in a very real sense, her loss of a coherent mental state in 2017 began the process of the loss of my compass into the future.

Yesterday, I reflected on how she and I were physical-touch communicators, and each day, despite at times feeling withdrawn, I know this more and more.

So today I sat on the edge of my bed, not wanting to get up, but my cat messed with my cell phone, and it started showing failed attempts to activate it. Meows weren't enough; he stepped on it, and it responded with a voice, so I was forced to get up.

Photos, songs, and items can trigger sadness, no, profound sadness. When my second wife ran off with the maintenance man from where she worked as an RN, it took years to get past that. Her best friend, sometime later, explained she didn't want to stay with our me and our son, with a serious heart defect, because at the time, the prognosis was that he would not live past his teens. During this time, a blue sky seemed black. This all happened more than forty years ago. I only recovered slowly because my late wife of 41 years helped me get past that. I do not have forty years now; less than 20 if averages hold.

In my wisest times, I live in the moment. Too bad, the moments are so lonely. (image pixabay)

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.

Dear blog reader, if you are a woman 55 - 70 and live near me, maybe you and I would take a walk and have a talk. We may even become friends.

I am posting this because I am not gay and want to discourage males from sending me letters and invitations.

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.

Politicians collect favors; some men collect conquests of women; some women collect conquests of men; and greedy businessmen acquire companies. I collected CDs, rocks, books, and a few guitars. Some may say I collected wives, having been married three times, but my late wife and I were together for 41 years. Since she passed, I struggle to find my place on Earth now.

For most of my life, I overcompensated for my weak ability to socialize and to trust. Becoming a singer-songwriter was my great mask. Now I know how to go through the motions, but I am unsure if I can trust people. The only person I truly trusted was my late wife, and that was from the first moment we met, despite both of us having less-than-perfect lives before then.

Religious people, some family members, and some who claimed to be friends only served to feed my insecurity when they failed to live up to their promises. I have been doing a lot of introspective thinking, and I have come up with a disturbing question: Am I a disengenious person?

Perhaps people misread my inner insecurity, or perhaps I fooled myself into believing I was a good person. I was wild a large part of my life up until I became thirty-six and my marriage to my late wife. We were religious because it seemed to embrace two damaged people, but I discovered it was not a solid truth. I do have core positives, but I may be blind to my core negatives.

BDSM experience has given me a lifeline; I believe most participants are more honest than the general population.

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.

About four years back, when I realized my wife had become only a dependent as a disabled child for me, my longing for a normal relationship with a woman blindly led me into the internet pit of vipers. I foolishly expected a companion and lover. Yes, I did briefly have a FWB; it became a challenge, mostly out of my false expectations and ignorance.

Now that my wife is in a beautiful glazed urn with a hummingbird on it, when I talk to her, it seems she tells me, " Go on with your life now. Her Alzheimer's, dementia, and aphasia were so hard to deal with; all our friends vanished, and all but one distant relative were supportive of my decision to honor 'till death do us part.

Now I can meet a woman who might become a companion, but I went through all the dating and hook-up sites during my faux youthful search, and all I got out of that experience was that I lost most of my money. OK, now you can read my blog and see I am willing to try again, but I feel I am blinded by several things, one being the experience described above.

I always give the ladies I meet the benefit of the doubt and trust first, and see what happens. All my past lovers (I haven't seen them in over forty years) still have a place in my heart that is warm and loving, no matter what happened back then. Somehow, I feel I am ready to love again. BDSM is a doorway to honesty, dom, switch, neither, or sub is all in my open mind.