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I would say that CPAP machines are the greatest advance in marital joy since the vibrator.
Some of my eight guys were handsome, if you could believe their profiles, and in my case the profiles tended to be pretty legitimate.
Yet union with a partner -- someone with whom to wake, whom you love, and talk with on and off all day, and sit with at dinner, and watch TV and movies, read together in bed, do hard tasks together, and to be loved by. I had experienced varying degrees of loneliness since my guy and I split up. Most seemed pretty normal, with college degrees, which I don't have, but certainly meant to; some attractive, mostly divorced but some like me, never married, some witty, some dull, sort of like real life.
After our breakup, I had just assumed there would be a bunch of kind, brilliant, liberal, funny guys my age to choose from. Surely my friends would set me up with their single friends, and besides, I am out in the public a lot doing events at bookstores and political gatherings, the ideal breeding ground for my type of guy. People don't know single guys my age who are looking for single women my age. I went onto with a clear knowledge that relationships are not the answer to lifelong problems. Curiously, almost without exception, they were "spiritual but not religious." I thought for a while that this meant ecumenical, drawn to Rumi, Thomas Merton, Mary Oliver.
I recoil even from the word "date," let alone the concept of possibly beginning a romantic relationship. I have an almost perfect life, even though I've been single since my last long-term boyfriend and I broke up four years ago.
I really do, insofar as that is possible in this vale of tears -- a cherished family, a grandchild, church, career, sobriety, two dogs, daily hikes, naps, perfect friends.
I made a few practice casual touches, but he didn't respond.