I’d like to let you know that I’m a life-long old bachelor man, and am most certain to remain so, according to every intention within my personal resolve. I am certainly not any philanderer or carelessly miss-behaving young ladies man. It is only that I’ve been raise in the company of ladies and have long since grown accustomed to the company of ladies. I’ve known little else in recent years.

Recently, I’ve spent my days working at the computer keyboard, as if there were no tomorrow,

writing geared toward either fact or fiction. My stories aren’t categorized, you may be the one to take on that job. Writing is as mandatory for me at the moment, as playing or writing for musical instruments once was. My passion for the guitar may have abated, I’m uncertain. Playing trumpet hasn’t happened at all since I surrendered my teeth to the oral surgeon.

Writing musical scores once was as necessary for my mental health as writing stories is for me now. I’m intimately familiar with the creative process, and therefore always encourage make an effort to it, not knowing how to avoid or rebelling against it. Even hand crochet finds it’s place and time with me now and then. The creative urge is only natural to me. Whenever I don’t do it, I miss it.

I consider it an honor and a privilege to be granted the latitude I assume, in writing here for public inspection. I’m frank and open with a general segment of society, who might happen to be reading here. I have no idea who reads my blog. I’ve become increasingly solitary in my going out and coming in, and don’t turn to all that many people, but I’m happy enough.

In my youth I behaved as youth does, if I’m not mistaken. I’ll say nothing much about those lovely ladies who were maidens in our mutual youth. They were unshaken by my wild attitude at the time, and treated me with kindness, by enlarge. There was a girl, or two or three, with the most luxurious hair, and many were born with the most deep and sparkling eyes, I’ve met many of them ladies in the places I’ve been to in life.

They’ve all been as good a comfort to me in my elder years as I can dare hope for from anyone. Many I’m thinking of are highly talented, highly skilled young professionals with husbands and families at home. It might be a scandal, if I were to change my tone a bit, but I won’t. They are, however many, mothers to all the children they claim to be mother to. What I’m saying is that many people have responded to the person I am, and I gave up being unkind to myself about it.

My Mother and aunt have raised me well, that I would understand how to be a gentleman. I learned a long time ago that a gentleman keeps his hands to himself with the ladies. Never having married, I find myself a comfort to more than one young lady, who seems to need to talk to a man, of a morning or afternoon. I don’t mind returning kindness for kindness. One might be surprised to witness how many professional nurses and therapists need a man to listen to them now and then.

There was, in fact, a young lady who was every bit as beautiful as a woman could hope to be. This girl was a long-standing friend of mine. Since she respecting my sensitive nature, fearing I might do harm to myself if she and I were involved, she avoid me. Yes, another friend told me she understood my background, and only had ambitions to be my friend, as she was. She was a beauty, no doubt about it. This young beauty married a man I’ve known as long as I’ve known the wife.

I’d provide an better number of how long it’s been I’ve known this couple, but the number of years escapes me utterly. Once again I must refer to the person who talked to me about the woman later, since I was told once she had tragically been a child prostitute early on, and never learned to read. I take no joy in the telling of this tale, and do my best to allow myself the strength to go on. This very lovely young lady gave birth to one child, and sometime later gave birth to a second.

She was positively radiant with her infant children to watch after, since they were very young when I saw them, but she kept complaining that her husband kept knocking her up. How sad it was to hear her talking about her own sons in such a context, considering the poor father was, in fact, her lawfully wedded husband. My musings can’t help but wonder how much more validated did she need to be, and yet, at that point I recall her tragic childhood background.

Next I heard that the devoted father and hubby had gone out for groceries of an afternoon, and came home to find the little wife dead at the bottom of the stairs. How much tragedy and heartache must one bear in a solitary lifetime? I was told the story by this caring third party, who understood I cared for the girl, that my dear friend had suffered an epileptic seizure at the top of the stairs, and fell to her death of a broken neck.

I have absolutely no quarrel with husbands, or significant others, whomever you might be. My hat’s off to each of you gentlemen. You actually married her, which requires more audacity than I’ll ever be able to muster. Because of something my background, I have a difficulty making a life-long commitment. I’ve honored your marriage each time your wife and I have had a conversation. I stand true to that, where God knows everything. I wish you both well, in your life together.


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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