jon_esp

A few months ago I bought a 25 lb weighted blanket, one of the heavier ones because I'm a taller/bigger guy, and I thought it would help with the stress and anxiety my loneliness. My former partner came out a few years ago but I foolishly clung to hope and she used that to keep me as a beard. Somehow my unhappiness at getting dumped but kept at arms' length is my fault (she doesn't want to sell her half of the house, but got herself an apartment), which isn't helped by her dropping by for a day or two a week. When the last kid is gone, I'm going to resolve things.

But between now and then, I've tried many things for my sanity and to keep the loneliness at bay. So I bought a cheap weigh

Recently I received some toy cleaning solution, in which the active ingredient is hypochlorus acid. The stuff is intended for cleaning literal toys in preschool and nursery environments, and has certifications indicating that it's an effective germicide and fungicide, and that the residue is both minimal and body-safe. Hypochlorus acid has a distinctly bleach-y smell, but when it evaporates supposedly the remaining surface is safe for snotty toddlers to stick in their mouths. It's used for hospital cleaning, and supposedly far better at killing bacteria than bleach. The downside that it decomposes and dissipates quickly is an advantage in this situation.

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Me: Boring old guy secretly loves to give a little joy. Ok, it's not really secret, and I'm not terribly shy. I'm in my late 40's and have a rough body with wear & tear, more bear than dadbod, and some scars that come with good stories... But I'm tall, strong, everything works, and I can still see my equipment when I look down. I'm told I'm not too hard on the eyes and have a good smile. Sometimes I feel self-conscious of my flawed and worn body, but I also insist on being defined by what I do, not what I have... which is why I'm posting here. In this case, it's all about giving one specific thing: a RAOMD experience that'll make you blush when you think about it years later, and d

She sent me a picture of her cat, curled up on the bed next to me, after I'd passed out face down on a corner of the bed.

I'm not sure what I was supposed to take from this scene.

In this picture I have fallen asleep alone again, faceplanted on one side of the bed at 2am, waiting for a companion who is never around, and seems to have minimal tolerance for my company. Perched next to me is her high-maintenance pet that she pours her affection into, physically touching, petting, cuddling, cooing, and stroking over and over, collectively no less than a couple hours of physical affection each day. Earlier that day I received a brief hug, which was nice, but later was brushed off for another.

Recently there have been several posts questioning the importance of sexuality in a relationship, posed in words sharing much of the sensibilities of my used-to-be-SO. We continue to share a house and raise kids (mine from a previous marriage, and almost done), but I am working on myself and planning my next chapter. After several years of decreasing intimacy she finally came out and told me she had no interest or desire for me, and considers herself or identifies as asexual. This has caused a great deal of conflict, as she doesn't understand why 'this little aspect' would threaten our relationship (when it effectively had ended it). The whole thing makes me terribly sad and I've written

It was with not a small bit of sadness that I saw Jane Juska passed away this past week. There's so much in her work that speaks to the troubles on these pages; desire and isolation, struggles with other people, weird assumptions that aging comes with an expectation of loneliness, and the like. To clumsily paraphrase: Before I get another year older, I would like to have a lot of sex with a woman I like. (A lot of sex is not actually that hard to arrange, and there are a couple of women in my proximity that I like rather a lot. But convergence is hard, and news of her passing wound me up a bit more than usual because my birthday is next week, so my wish ain't gonna happen.) Juska s