Blame it on Shepherdstown…

Charley the Lumberjack, without an ax to grind.  Without a beard to stroke.  Wearing sensible shoes.

Well, as infrequently as I post one would wonder if I still existed.  I do, and I shall.  It appears that I have plenty of time, maybe 15-20 years according to my doctor.  When She gave me my last bill of health she was ecstatic and proud of my accomplishments regarding the weight loss, control of my diabetes and high blood pressure.  (Where upon hearing the praise I asked, “Got a cigarette?”)

I love the movie “Blame it on Rio” Michael Cain, Demi Moore trudge through a May/September relationship and I have found myself debating some of the same issues.  Here I am hot again.  After being insecure and fat, I have gone from feeling guilty about my accomplishments, to feeling mildly egotistical and proud.  I have tried to temper my narcissistic urges with reality.  The reality that friends don’t want to hear any more about it.  Though they are proud, most of them have been with me for the journey and are just a bit tired of it.

The nicest bonus, or biggest bit of mess that I have is I am finding that I am appealing to a whole other demographic, outside of my own.20161126_153248

I really do not mind the attention.  It feeds the ego and I am happy.  If, and I mean a really big IF, someone wants to play, well, I may, I would, and have.  However, I know and realize that I am not going to find a long term relationship on Grindr.  Grindr is for hooking up.  Not everybody is aware of that.  Especially straight women who think it is fun and their mission to encourage me to meet men of my own age and to have a reasonable encounter. (You were with me when I said Grindr was for hookups, not long term relationships.  Okay, great as long as we are clear on this.)  (This is where the discussion began.)

Please keep in mind there are specifics.  There are opinions that are not my own.  There are opinions that are mine.  I will try to be specific, as I can, without naming names.  A dear friend suggested that I was being superficial about my choosiness with potential dates, or suitors.  (Daddy is looking to get an itch scratched.  Mommy wants him to get a new scratching post.)  And was not happy with my opinion, not him, when pointing out someone on Grindr – who she thought was a perfect choice.  Nice looking and “age” appropriate.

Jon has only been gone for three years, six months and thirteen days (and as of this writing ten hours).  But who is counting.

I am not anxious to get into another relationship.  Yes, I am open to one.  Yes, I would like to be in a relationship.  Yes, I moan about it.  However, I am not actively in search of one.  The one I wanted, was already snagged by someone else.  I’ve got bad timing with this thing called love.  (And you know who you are…  I have loved you from the first time I met you.  Your voice causes me to melt like butter on the dash of a 66 Pontiac Bonneville on a 13076948_1127637693954872_5378092667144604013_nhot July afternoon in a Walmart parking lot.)  (I get stutter and stammer when I talk to you to this day, and I got rid of most of that in college.  Except for times I’m drunk, tired or enamored.)  (Taking a minute to compose myself…  )

This does not mean that I have not gone after or pursued others.  Usually as I just indicated, I usually move to slow, to fast or in the wrong direction.  They are usually head over heels in love with someone.  (Who will just go ahead and do you wrong anyway…  I TOLD YOU SO!)  Or not mature enough to deserve you as you need.  (And they are going to use you until they tire of you.  Again, I TOLD YOU SO.)  Or they are such a momma’s boy and can’t find it within themselves to commit to someone as great and terrific as you are.  (Okay, I might have been wrong on this one.  However, just because the jury is still out doesn’t mean that I am not right.)

If I am going to get into another relationship, I have the option of being choosy.  I like what I like and why I like it.  If I am actively pursuing someone, I want to meet someone who shares the same interests and values as I do.  The person who came down on me so hard would be the one that I would want to date, except – she’s a she, not a he.

I want someone who is interested in doing some of the same things that I am.  (Cycling, Kayaking, Hiking, Camping.  Science fiction and theater are on my list of things to do.  I can cook.  I can dance.  I love going out and trying new things, finding new holes in the wall and greasy spoons.  I enjoy exploring.  I love living.

Going back to the poltergeist that I am trying to exorcise here…  A random face was pickeddreamer_03 off the my main page of Grindr.  The guy I am sure was a nice guy.  However, old habits being what they are, I sized up the situation and began a signs and symptom assessment.  He looked as if he was someone I could be friends with, I was not discounting him there.  I was writing him off as relationship material based on my opinion.  My professional, well earned, hard trained, visual assessment and based on statistics he provided in his profile…  He was forty-six years of age, white, male, 5′ 6″ tall, two hundred, sixty-five pounds, bald and pale.  His activities included kicking back at home and Netflix.

My reply was; “No, he is a heart attack waiting to happen and I can’t do that again.” (With emphasis and focus on the “I can’t do that again.”)  (You’re following me right?)

If you have not scrolled back yet, Jon was shorter than I, not as healthy as he, or I, could have been, and I lost him because of Aortic Stenosis.  (Generalized statement – a heart attack, not specifically one, but in the grand scheme of things.)

What my friend heard was ‘No he’s fat.  I want someone younger and handsomer.’  My lovely lady friend is distanced from someone who did that.  And guess who got all that vitriol.

I was being accused of being superficial – Okay, maybe I am – however given my professional opinion based on my thirty-three years of emergency medical background and training.  Given the photographic evidence.  Given favorite activities and what they were looking for in another person.  I am going to go with my professional gut instinct and let it tell me the guy wasn’t the healthiest person around.  And was not interested in hiking through Shenandoah National Forest with me.  I have not met the guy.  I have not given him a chance to try out some of the things that I like to do, or to do them with me.  No he has not been given a chance.  The discussion was hypothetical that got taken and made personal.  I was not the one who was playing on my Grindr account.  I was not the one picking out random guys as an example as to yes there are men out there for me to date or pursue other than twenty somethings at the college.

No, I am not actively pursuing anyone.  Yes, I do have friends.  Yes, I do chat.  Yes, I do have coffee with or have lunch with on occasions.  I do not discourage a random text telling me that I am #DaddyAF.  Yes, there is one in whom I am infatuated with and I cannot begin to tell anyone why.  (Other than I want to touch his…  never mind.)  On the other hand, I do not actively discourage such observations.  I will occasionally get texts on Grindr or other social media outlets asking questions, or complimenting me.  Yet I do not feel that I am a creepy old man.  Though I sometimes refer to myself as such.  (Yes, I promised that I wouldn’t do that anymore.  This was for discussion purposes only.) (Go down and get yourself a freezer pop out of the cellar.)

tumblr_nen4jck1xg1r0f8s4o1_500The presentation to me was that I needed to replace Jon to move on with my life.  That I wasn’t fit then but still a wonderful date able person.  Neither was Jon.  We were to great individuals that found each other…  (yawn).  Yeah, I’ve heard it before.  From this wonderful friend and from myself.  It boiled down to I needed to replace the goldfish with another one and go on.

No that wasn’t said.  I am taking poetic license.  I cannot loose another love.  I’m not strong enough, right now, to loose another love.  To have another part of my soul get ripped out because they have no desire to take care of them-self.  After Bill, after Jon, I cannot loose another.  I have gotten fitter.  I have gotten stronger.  I have changed my life around.  There is photographic evidence on this very blog to document that.  You’ve heard it before.  I have changed.  I would like to meet someone who likes some of the same things that I do.  I wish to be shown and allowed to experience some of the things that someone new would bring to my life.

You, my dear friend, have no right to discount my feelings of loss and remorse and mourning.  You have no right to tell me that my opinions are wrong.  Though they are not yours, they are not wrong.  Because you do not feel that way does not make mine wrong. As you so kindly put it, fuck you.

You are still my friend, because I am okay with your feelings of grief and opinions that are counter to mine.  I love you, I love who you are.  I love all that you are and have been to me. But, I am not going to replace the best gold fish in the world with another one that we found at Walmart.

If one comes along, I am not going to shove him away.  But I am not going to pursue one that isn’t interesting or isn’t looking for me.  Those that find me of interest, are worth my time.  Those that want to share my time and are willing to do so, are encouraged.

So while I separate the wheat from the chaff.  I strongly encourage counseling for you dear one.  Somebody else’s father deserved the berating that you gave me.  My choice and lack of interest in someone that a straight girl picked out for me on Grindr in the course of a healthy discussion as to what is wrong with me…  Which wasn’t the topic at all…  and it certainly wasn’t about you.  It wasn’t because you are so tall and such a weight or such an age… Those things never came out of my mouth.  I commented on me, but you choose not to hear that I afraid and I am still hurting.

Fuck you.