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Why Am I Here?
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Why Am I Here? I thought I should take a bit to explain why I’m here. My profile doesn’t seem to get the story across, and I could do what some others have done and write a long list of things I’m looking for and not looking for to the point that no one wants to read the entire thing. (C’mon, people. It’s like a resume. Don’t tell any more than necessary to grab someone’s attention. You’ll tell them everything else in the interview process.) I can understand the ladies needing to be bluntly specific about who they are not looking for, but for 1500 words? Really? It’s so much easier to just block the jerks! What my profile will tell you is that I’m white, 50, married and looking for an affair. I admit to being a large individual because it’s going to be painfully obvious if we meet in person, so why lie? My photos are all of me. I just added a verification pic with me holding up my screen name this weekend. Hasn’t increased any traffic, but the bots are still IMing me here and there. (And no, I’m not into BDSM and have no intention of obeying your every order. Why can’t a bot be into something aside from BDSM?) I’ve been married for 22 years, with my wife for 25. Half of my life. We still love each other, but the like is gone. I’d rather be living with someone I liked and didn’t love than the other way around, but alas, that is not my fate here. Along the path to our falling out of like, we also stopped being intimate. That was the first thing to go, really. Many will say they can’t be intimate with someone they do not love. I’m here to tell you it’s far, far more difficult being intimate with someone you do not even like. There were several things that went into why and how we fell out of like, but there’s no point in rehashing them here. Suffice to say that’s where my life is right now, and why I am here. I have had several affairs in the past. Most of them came over a 10 year period in my early 30s to 40s. Some lasted several months, some several weeks. There were a couple one-night-stands that I didn’t realize were going to be one-night-stands, and even one that I had to fake not being able to cheat on my wife to explain why I couldn’t see her again when the truth was she looked just like someone I could not stand. She wasn’t that person, and it’s totally not fair, but the brain was not talking to the balls, so it needed to end right away. My last real affair was six years ago. She was, to my mind, perfect. Beautiful (Asian, which I have a weakness for), incredibly smart, funny, sassy, and fit into my arms and body like no one had before. (That’s a completely biased statement, but I stand by it just the same.) She was also married to a man that she did not like, or in her case love, but they stuck together for the . We made it last a few months, but the sneaking out got the better of her. She couldn’t keep sneaking out on her , worried they would one day find out what she had done. It’s hard to argue when the come into the reasoning. She not only stopped seeing me, she stopped all contact with me. I was heartbroken. I was 44, madly in love with someone who decided she couldn’t have anything to do with me anymore, and facing ever-decreasing odds of finding someone else. I cope with stress and depression in the same way. I eat. I eat junk, to be specific. Mountain Dew is the sacred blood and double-stuff Oreos are holy holy wafer. (I’m Jewish, so I may not know what I’m talking about here.) Over the last 6 years I’ve put on about 80 pounds, and the more I recognize that I am now in the realm of an Untouchable if I was in India, the more I eat and gain, which makes me more depressed, and the cycle continues. What’s worse, I was already about 40 pounds overweight when this all started. I’m now tipping the scales at over 300 pounds, and it’s all in my gut. I walked by a window last week and I was reminded of the old Alfred Hitchcock Presents TV show where he walked into the outline of his body, which was rather rotund around the middle. I actually envisioned myself walking into his caricature and finding I fit perfectly. Not a good look. Here’s what I know. When I had my first affair, which lasted longer than any of the others, ironically, and she is still an incredibly good friend, I realized I needed to lose weight to be a better lover to her. By simply cutting sugar out of my died (and seeing her on a fairly regular basis as well), I dropped 20 pounds. So I can do it, but I need the right motivation. Unfortunately, making myself more attractive for a future lover doesn’t seem to be good enough, but for a present lover it is. If you read my first blog, you already know I was stood up by someone who said she would be over to my place and then never showed up. That was over a trip my wife took out of town last month. She just took another trip out of town, over this past weekend, and I was once again talking with someone. This time it was really deep, meaningful, and made me feel really positive about myself, even at my size. Then things started breaking down. She wants a full-time lover, not one she can only see once a month. I won’t go into any more detail than that. She could read this, and I still want to connect with her if she is of a mind to do so, but I fear I’ve lost her as well. She won’t return my emails or IMs. Another lost weekend, but with even more pain than the last time. This is NOT what I paid my money for a 3-month subscription for. I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of person you are if you’re also fat, or married (and not swinging), or 50. Forget even being considered worthy of consideration if you are all three. So my being kind and giving, warm and affectionate, smart, funny and even a bit romantic sometimes, means nothing. Even my often-complimented oral skills are meaningless. Oh, the humanity! The only silver lining I have here is that my subscription ends on March 12, and I’ve already set it up to not renew. Once I’m no longer Gold, I can’t see profiles or photos or read emails sent in the app. I won’t see those bots demanding I worship them while being tied up (and I pause to laugh at this again… please!). I can’t be led on and hurt at the end of it (last month), or find a real connection only to watch it slip away (this weekend). I can go back to being old and fat and unattractive with no one seeing who I am because they are too focused on being disgusted by what I am. I can go back to just living under the same roof with someone who doesn’t like me, nor do I like her. I can go back to the life I’ve been living for the past 6 years, and hope my depression-induced diet puts an end to all of this bullshit sooner instead of later. See? Only 1300 words. Much better. |
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