(ok. Maybe a hair passed that. I don’t know the technical cut-off between middle aged and old or senior, but we aren’t there quite yet.)
Sitting around jibber-jabbering about the pandemic and our kids and our mothers and life. It was nice. So nice. I pay attention to what they each have to say. What they primarily talk about. I notice I’m different than most mom’s as in that I only talk about my kids slightly more than people without kids do.
In other words I notice that’s what they primarily talk about. Which is cool. I guess it’s better than work and I know to us mother’s our kids are in our constant thought processes. It’s hard wired.
But generally I don’t talk about them much at all. For starters I guess is that it’s complicated and then I can never gauge why people ask and what exactly or how much they want to know. So I always say the same thing “Fine thanks.”.
Obviously with this group of women I didn’t. We’ve been friends for a long time. But here is the thing. There are so many parts of my life that are feeling like a greasy dumpster fire that I just don’t have the desire or motivation to share or talk about it. And why would anyone want to listen to it? I mean. Therapist get paid for it and even they probably hate it sometimes.
I hope one day my life is truly fucking amazing. But the unfortunate or fortunate part is that I already do think that. I know I should be aiming higher.
I shouldn’t just be happy to wake up each morning. I shouldn’t be happy to see whatever the day holds. I shouldn’t accept however my day went and find peace and as much happiness as I can out of that.
Whatever it was.
I’m told, maybe rightfully so, that’s not enough.
Ease would be fucking amazing. My kids and I healthy and thriving. A truly wonderful man by my side. Financial breathing room to be as generous as I choose to be. And a career that makes me feel alive.
It just feels so strange to live in a world where those things simply aren’t a possibility in a lot of people’s lives. Like worse than the state lottery odds.
And yet I’m told to be positive, to keep working towards it, to keep hope alive, because I guess the odds aren’t as bad for me.
Sure. I guess……
This is me trying.
It’s good to catch up. Now that my mother is gone I don’t know that I will come back. It would be wierd. Maybe not as bad as this visit. But just odd I think. But who knows.
I may just keep editing this all night. I think it’s a random sort of evening.
I rented Ghost in a Shell. I like it so far.
I had the exact same complaint one of my friends just heard voiced form her good male friend. Basically it’s that you know when you get married what you signed up for. Fidelity. Sexual fidelity. Except there should be a clause that there is a bare minimum set by each couple. Like if I don’t get sex for two months (barring any extenuating circumstances) I can source elsewhere. And….and….the partner should be happy to allow me that needed pleasure. Period.
Now in my mind I think my ideal partner would enjoy us playing together with others. Not a full swing lifestyle, but maybe like return characters. It isn’t necessary but I think it would be fun. I don’t think I ever want to stop wanting to go to sex clubs. Other than all the work involved with running a business, a sex club sounds soooo fun to run. I’ve contemplated it.
I think about sex a lot. And I enjoy talking about it. A lot. If I had to choose between philosophy/religion and sex to have a deep at length discussion I can’t say which would win. Depends who I am talking to I guess. Lol
How many times is good?
In a committed relationship I think 1-3 times a week is my desired minimum. Like I can take a shower once a week too but no one would want that. This is the same. I need sex. Why do people not get that? It really is the same. It’s a reset on my body. The pressure build up and pleasure release is exactly what sets me on a good equilibrium. And add in real emotions and love and fuck……. how could I not love sex?
Here’s my little studio Airbnb. Wish I had someone to snuggle with.
(No details provided on the deletion.)
Life is so strange
Like sometimes I really feel I have a hold of it all and I’m deeply at peace.
And others it’s like I have absolutely no idea about anything at all. And I feel just this kind of frozen awe about it all. Like just mesmerized by the sheer complexity, intricacy and chaos of it all. And I don’t feel as if I could even begin to grasp at what this existence entails.
It all seems so arbitrary
It’s all so subjective
How happy should I be?
What defines my happiness?
What desires fulfilled?
What needs met?
Because I’m blah blah, from blah blah, of such, from such, with such suchness it’s truly impressive.
So of course I should have all that I want and more than I need, in all aspects.
I just can’t get on board any of those stupid games.
And the worst part is that so many of us carry around some portion of these ego demands; from great to small.
One day I want to live in a less ego driven world. And I’m willing to die on the hill of trying to help turn that wheel.
Trying to live with genuineness. Trying to be heart forward. Trying to be kind.
Trying to remain accepting of my own unique perceived reality as well as open to possibilities that none of this is even real and anything can happen.