Making Time

There’s always something to be written about. I wonder what will materialize on the page here today? I’d like to find out. Try writing about the lifetime effects of going through various childhood abuses, from either one of your parents, or from strangers, or from both, as well as going through the divorce of your own parents as a child. This is a very serious subject, and has had a way of ruining lives, all around the author, including the author himself. This subject has had a way of defeating the author’s ambitions to have a family, and has precipitated a lot of broken hearts and bad feelings, all around this one author’s world.

I enjoy seeing and talking to the pretty, young ladies, but then again, I don’t take that very far in my thinking anymore. I’m not trying to accomplish anything with any of them anymore. I’m too weary of all the useless flirting with people, with no particular objective in mind. I would really rather make the grade with absolutely no one, at the moment, as I’ve been doing all along in my life already. I’m not interested in making time with anyone anymore. It just engenders too much heartache.

My mind’s form of romanticism has been stymied, from the inside, out.

For one thing, having a woman is for having children of my own, and I no longer have that objective as one of my goals in life. I’ve had enough conversations with enough doctors to know that I’ve been diagnosed with chronic schizophrenia, and that the illness itself is genetically transmitted. Having children of my own is most likely to have the most far reaching consequences for the life of my own children. I’d rather be responsible about myself, and avoid having my own children in the first place.

Of course, there are things that happen to be pleasurable with various interactions with women, and I find myself even turned off over all that. I had someone manipulate my feelings, by doing a lot of insincere hugging and kissing, trying her best to make me her sugar daddy for the rest of my very short life. She was planning my death all the while, making a place for herself with a lot of the people who knew me, giving off the impression that she was my daughter, when she wasn’t. I don’t appreciate her putting a DNR on my chart at the hospital, whether I said something noble or whether I didn’t.

I’ve gotten caught up in being a bachelor, and have become more and more confirmed, ever since I’ve been doing that same old trick all my life, of avoiding the alter altogether. I estimate that making time with anyone as not really one of my workable objectives in life. I guess I have low testosterone or something, but I don’t even care. I’m another generation entirely than any of the elderly ladies where I live. The same goes for the whole bar crowd. Besides, I don’t drink. I happen to be a baby boomer, and everyone at the bar is pretty much a subsequent generation, too young for me.

They’re all too young or too old, and I’m too comfortable being single to put myself out there for whomever, to get myself into their sites. I’ve been to a university, as well as to a college. I’ve been to various church youth groups, as well as trifling with all the dating sites on the web. There is just not enough rationale for me to want to consider getting another individual involved in my intimacy, with, or without knowing what I’m getting myself into. It’s such a crap shoot, I don’t feel safe taking it on. As a matter of fact, I don’t feel safe taking on any romantic interaction with anyone these days.

I’ve gotten so bored with little old ladies, and sometimes I think I’d like to go out on the town to see younger ladies. I can’t help wondering how I’d ever manage accomplishing that feat, with no driver’s license and no car to get me anywhere, living in a strange city? It’s an enigma I haven’t gotten a clue about how to compensate for. The other thing is that I can’t dance anymore, because my hearing gets so monumentally overwhelmed by the volume of sound given off by a live band in close quarters. Same goes for a movie theatre. I’d be quite the bore at a dance party of any kind that I’m likely to find out about, in any of my limited circles. I used to belong to a crowd who did sock hops when I was in high school, but high school was back in the days when there were dinosaurs. Remember?

There’s someone here and there, in some places, other than where I live, whom I find plenty attractive to look at, but then, what am I supposed to do with her, once I attract her? I’m on the lower edge of being an old geezer, and all of the youngsters would simply declare me a dirty old man, and proceed to use me for my money, or recoil in disgust at my improper advances. There are plenty of women my own age whom I could strike up a dialogue with, but I’m so busy being a creative writer, there are not many of the one’s I have email relationships with, who hear from me very often.

It’s an enigma of serious proportions.

The one thing I detest is being alone on Christmas, but it looks like I’m just going to have to suck that up and consider it par for the course. I’ve found a lot of things to stay single about, whenever I’ve had ladies on a string, so to speak. There have always been times I’ve had plenty of opportunities to strike up intimate relationships with plenty of nice girls, but I’ve always found that I’m not all that interested in giving in to any kind of commitment with anyone. There were plenty of people to choose from, in the sordid history of my life, but I’ve always chosen to remain an unattached bachelor.

I might as well admit it. I never learned how to find out if I could trust anyone. Commonly, I can’t trust anyone. I’ve been trusting everyone who comes into view, because I was always the kind of person who believed nothing happens by mistake in this world. The idea that I’m going to find someone at the age of sixty something, when I’ve never been able to find anyone so far, sounds sort of ludicrous to me. I’m just going to have to let the idea of having someone go into it’s own oblivion.

I have no clue how it is that I’m supposed to consider it open season on women, after a lifetime of having to reject them all, wholesale? I was always dirt poor and starving, having no talent for supporting myself, in all my younger days. Now, I happen to live in a home, and I don’t trust anyone who wants to do a lot of hugging and kissing on me, for no apparent reason whatsoever. I never really did feel comfortable with women who took too many liberties with me.

I’m an old humbug, who doesn’t have any kind of idea why I should get involved with anyone, regardless of how attractive or unattractive they happen to be. I cannot imagine taking on any kind of intimate relationship with anyone, so I don’t even try. I just enjoy having fun. I’m single, which is not to be confused with available. That’s just the way things stand. I enjoy being nice to people, because that’s the way I want to be, but make no mistake about it, I live a solitary life of isolation, and have no idea how to accomplish anything else.

That’s what comes to the mind today.

I’ve been flirting with the one woman in this one place I frequent, but I want to keep it tuned down with her, for several reasons. I think I’ve elucidated those reasons rather thoroughly already. I don’t think I need to do anything like embarrass the poor woman by indicating where it is I’ve seen her, or add quite a bit of information about why it is I find her attractive. She’s just plain cute, and I hope she finds someone to make her happy, if she hasn’t already. She’s probably been married since she was seventeen. “No, no, no. It ain’t me, babe. It ain’t me you’re looking for, babe,” to quote one of the great bards of my times, Bob Dylan.

I guess I’ll tone it down around her, since I don’t want anything from her in the first place. It’s a curiosity what she’d do with my affection, from halfway around the world. There is plenty of time to talk on the telephone line, to establish that we are both human beings, with all of the feelings and passions of human beings, to be bestowed upon someone, somewhere, if that’s what one of us wants to do. But I don’t feel comfortable trying it. The idea is not too far fetched to be grasped. I imagine she’s already picked up on my meaning, since she happens to be a sensitive individual. But what I’d like to do with her, if she ever took an interest in me, is a question I don’t know how to answer.

Oh yes, and the shoe is also on the other foot, as well. There are plenty of those whose flirtation with me is just something I have to put up with, because I don’t know what else to do with it. There are plenty of those around. If I wanted to catch someone, people like that would be like having money in the bank. It means that there’s something in the way of interest in place with them, already. There’s nothing so much of a turn-off, as a woman who can’t take care of herself.

I realize it’s all just the game between the boys and the girls, and that everybody’s playing it, sooner or later in their lives. I know. I wasn’t born yesterday. There are those who just have a need for that hope against hope, that one day their own dreams will become glittering realities. I started all this conjecture based on the idea that I can’t stand being alone on Christmas, but I realize I haven’t made any progress whatsoever in the way of finding a remedy for my own socialization problem.

I had an experience with someone when I was young, who flat-out demanded that I marry her, when there was no urgency about the commitment existing in my own mind, whatsoever. She hunted me down again, over the internet, over the years, and ultimately ended up catching some other poor sucker, to play Ken in her Barbies Playhouse with her. Since she married Ken, she’s been leaving me alone, but she refused to give up on me for the better part of a lifetime.

Damn woman is obsessed.

I know the name of the game, I just don’t know how to play it and win, except to roll the dice on my own blog. I’ve been through childhood molestation, blatant childhood sexual abuse, not to hardly mention my physically abusive father. I’ll be darned if I’m going to get all wrapped up in some sort of contract with anybody, and have to give up the few things I’ve got left, that happen to be mine. I’d rather be lonely at Christmas time, than take on a contract with anyone that I haven’t known all my life. Even those ladies I have known all my life would make me too uncomfortable to play the game in the first place.

It’s the game between the boys and the girls, and I don’t want to play, thank you very much.


About geostan51

I'm a wordsmith and a craftsman. I've been known to hand crochet just about anything escept granny squares. I've got about twenty titles in my name on the Kindle Store at
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