For the past year I’ve been settling into my new found status as a single male. I must admit, the experience has been somewhat akin to donning an ill-fitting suit. In addition to being a bit reserved, I’m what one might call a non-conformist. I have long hair, a rock and roll lifestyle, and the overall outlook of someone much younger than my actual years would suggest. Not that I’m wild, my days of vice and depravity are tucked neatly in the past; however, I’m not a lump on a log either.
I’ve read that men become invisible at a certain age. I believe that observation is correct. I used to turn the heads of females when I entered a room. Now the ladies look past me. Alas, I’m getting old. So what’s a geezer with a Peter Pan complex supposed to do? I may be over-the-hump, but I’m still in need of a proper re-charging of the old battery, as it were.
Such a proper recharge, in my case, runs deeper than sex. I need that spark from another human; that mutual attraction that stirs the soul and simultaneously excites and soothes every nerve ending…that crush…that shared joie de vivre.
This aching need pushed me over the freaking edge last night. Well, honestly, several beverages exacerbated the process as well. I joined a fucking dating site. What was I thinking? With my usual flair, I completed an enticing profile complete with photographs of me in various exotic locale. Oh…my…gawd…what a crazy world we live in.
I’m used to marketing my writing and live for the responses I receive daily from the beautiful folk around the world. Marketing my self is an entirely different ballgame. When my PC exploded with responses from every direction, I had to fight the urge to throw my fucking laptop out the window and hide under my bed. Instead, I paced the house for a bit (dog at my heels with a confused look), opened a beer, and crept cautiously back to my desk.
For the next three hours, I sat in muted light, gazing at the profiles of lonely souls such as me, from my area and beyond. I braved the numerous flirts and messages, some serious, and some scammers preying on pitiful suckers like me. I almost sent a couple of messages myself but I’ve resisted so far.
I’ve yet to shake the feeling of a lecherous hermit shopping for a mail order bride. That’s something I’ll have to get over (maybe). I’m telling myself, this is the world where I now dwell…anonymous, disenfranchised, alone with little prospect of remedy. There are others out there just like me, right? I don’t know. Time will tell. In the meantime, I’ll try to keep jump starting a battery in desperate need of recharge.
Thank heavens for WordPress. Here, behind my words, I’m home.
Peace dear readers and if anyone knows any singles with a geezer fetish, let me know.
Daily Post Keyword: Recharge