Passing through a store the other day, I heard two people discussing the old thought that if you stick a frog in boiling water it will jump out, but if you stick a frog in lukewarm water and turn the heat on, it will just sit there, oblivious to the rising temperature.
Driving home that got me thinking if the same was true for the air we breathe. Have somebody place their hand over your mouth and you panic. But what if, bit by bit, day by day, some invisible hand was sapping the oxygen from your air. You're tired, you feel off, but it happens so slowly that you don't notice, until one day in an epiphany you cry out at how difficult it had become to just breathe.
This is all metaphor by the way. I promise I harbor no perverse asphyxiation fetish. But it is the best way to describe how I feel.
How did I get to this place? How did I wake up in my mid 30s dumbfounded by how much of a lack of intimacy and compassion are in my life?
it's different than loneliness. I am surrounded by people, and yet I still long for that one singular connection that leaves you feeling completely connected to another person. I am not sure if I had that and lost it, or if I was just kidding myself the entire time.
The only thing I really know is that I go through the routine of each day, increasingly aware of how utterly devoid I am of that one special intimate friendship I so desperately seek. And the more elusive it becomes, the more I feel like my mind is devoid of the emotional and psychological oxygen that flows from having that kind of connection to somebody.
Obviously this is a long and only half coherent rambling. I am not sure if it is a personal ad, a catharsis, or just the illogical output of a bad nights sleep.
But whatever it is, I am "here." And if you are "here" too, write to me.
(obligatory basics: 35, male, skinny, blond, professional, educated, clean cut).
women only please
Driving home that got me thinking if the same was true for the air we breathe. Have somebody place their hand over your mouth and you panic. But what if, bit by bit, day by day, some invisible hand was sapping the oxygen from your air. You're tired, you feel off, but it happens so slowly that you don't notice, until one day in an epiphany you cry out at how difficult it had become to just breathe.
This is all metaphor by the way. I promise I harbor no perverse asphyxiation fetish. But it is the best way to describe how I feel.
How did I get to this place? How did I wake up in my mid 30s dumbfounded by how much of a lack of intimacy and compassion are in my life?
it's different than loneliness. I am surrounded by people, and yet I still long for that one singular connection that leaves you feeling completely connected to another person. I am not sure if I had that and lost it, or if I was just kidding myself the entire time.
The only thing I really know is that I go through the routine of each day, increasingly aware of how utterly devoid I am of that one special intimate friendship I so desperately seek. And the more elusive it becomes, the more I feel like my mind is devoid of the emotional and psychological oxygen that flows from having that kind of connection to somebody.
Obviously this is a long and only half coherent rambling. I am not sure if it is a personal ad, a catharsis, or just the illogical output of a bad nights sleep.
But whatever it is, I am "here." And if you are "here" too, write to me.
(obligatory basics: 35, male, skinny, blond, professional, educated, clean cut).
women only please
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