in_the_fog
Virgin
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2017
- Posts
- 2
39.
It may not have the same emotional wallop as a round number but it has hit me just as hard.
One last year of "youth," broadly defined? One last year to postpone the harsh truth of a mid life assessment? All I have been able to do lately is lament that time can only move in one direction.
How did I get here? Like I woke up to find myself inhabiting a life not my own, one that's not much more than a caricature of everything my 20 year old self promised not to become.
Married to a woman I feel like I barely know. Father to kids that drain every drop of energy from my being. Surrounded by people but at the same time totally alone.
Sex is almost nonexistant. I navigate a minefield every time I try to initiate it. And when it does happen it's a familiar repetition, an algebraic formula of touches and movements that yields a predictable result. I'd have an easier time confiding secret turn ons to my tax accountant.
It wasn't always this way. At least I like to tell myself that, but more and more I come to think of it as a myth. I was always the lowest of priorities.
When I look in the mirror I don't see the face of a person who should be this pathetic. The hairline might be receding but I'm still slim, still dress well, still "care." Maybe I have given up on the inside, but I keep the veneer the same because it's easier to lie to a mask.
Lately I have found myself fantasizing...something I feel horribly guilty about. About coworkers, random people in my life...and the form of the fantasies is even more pathetic. It's never about crazy kinks or sexual liaisons (not that I am disinterested in those). I fantasize about laying next to somebody who gives a bleep about me. I fantasize about looking into some one else's eyes and not seeing apathy. I fantasize about kindness...
In my wildest of fantasies I imagine meeting some woman who's able to see right through me, see all the despair, all the heartache, all the loneliness, and want to be close to me because of it.
But I know that people like that don't really exist. So I will keep wearing this shell, presenting the image of a guy who is okay, even though I am anything but.
This is long, rambling, incoherent, and I highly doubt anyone made it to the end. But if you did, and you are feeling isolated too, I hope you will write to me.
It may not have the same emotional wallop as a round number but it has hit me just as hard.
One last year of "youth," broadly defined? One last year to postpone the harsh truth of a mid life assessment? All I have been able to do lately is lament that time can only move in one direction.
How did I get here? Like I woke up to find myself inhabiting a life not my own, one that's not much more than a caricature of everything my 20 year old self promised not to become.
Married to a woman I feel like I barely know. Father to kids that drain every drop of energy from my being. Surrounded by people but at the same time totally alone.
Sex is almost nonexistant. I navigate a minefield every time I try to initiate it. And when it does happen it's a familiar repetition, an algebraic formula of touches and movements that yields a predictable result. I'd have an easier time confiding secret turn ons to my tax accountant.
It wasn't always this way. At least I like to tell myself that, but more and more I come to think of it as a myth. I was always the lowest of priorities.
When I look in the mirror I don't see the face of a person who should be this pathetic. The hairline might be receding but I'm still slim, still dress well, still "care." Maybe I have given up on the inside, but I keep the veneer the same because it's easier to lie to a mask.
Lately I have found myself fantasizing...something I feel horribly guilty about. About coworkers, random people in my life...and the form of the fantasies is even more pathetic. It's never about crazy kinks or sexual liaisons (not that I am disinterested in those). I fantasize about laying next to somebody who gives a bleep about me. I fantasize about looking into some one else's eyes and not seeing apathy. I fantasize about kindness...
In my wildest of fantasies I imagine meeting some woman who's able to see right through me, see all the despair, all the heartache, all the loneliness, and want to be close to me because of it.
But I know that people like that don't really exist. So I will keep wearing this shell, presenting the image of a guy who is okay, even though I am anything but.
This is long, rambling, incoherent, and I highly doubt anyone made it to the end. But if you did, and you are feeling isolated too, I hope you will write to me.
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