I’ve been happily living alone for decades, but now I find I want a woman about. It’s rather like spending decades growing flowers, and suddenly discovering the joy of concrete. Recent events have left me out of emotional balance. That’s the concrete. The only way back for me that I can see is company, long term company (oh great, irritating rhymes … this isn’t going to be easy, is it).
It’s annoying, to be honest. I was quite happy the way I was. But, well, the way I feel now, I can’t stay here.
My advantages are there; I’m intelligent, I’m a poet, I’m a geek, I’ve an evil sense of humour, I’ve taste, I’m polyclass, I can be good company.
My disadvantages are numerous, starting off with the fact I’m fat. It’s not simply that I enjoy food and booze, although that doesn’t help. It’s not that I don’t get much exercise, although obviously that doesn’t help either. I ballooned when I was 13. My brother, living the same lifestyle, did not. I’m quite convinced I must have caught a fat bug; I ballooned after a trip to hospital with a broken arm. However, I’m quite unwilling to go to the extremes necessary to counter it’s lifelong side-effects. I would exercise if there were exercise with utility, neither vain nor self-indulgent. So I’m fat. Not outrageously fat. But fat.
Another disadvantage is my age. I’m older than Sputnik, I was born when rock’n’roll was fresh, the RouteMaster is my big brother and the DS my big sister: I’m older than the hills, or specifically this hill. There’s nothing I can do about this, of course, except, er, well, blimey, I just had a weird dream, thank God I’m still 17 and stupid … er ….
Also, and this is a serious disadvantage, my sexuality is not mainstream. I am a dominant sadist. I was once inquisitor on bondage.com, if that helps. I need that rare woman, a phoenix, a girl who needs the flames.
One reason I left the UK is the British government legislates against people like me, born with this sexuality, as if the law could change the history of human evolution. I’m searching for a new homeland. I’m not settled, I’m moving around Europe. Or maybe that’s an advantage; it depends on the eyes looking.
I’ve been living alone for more than thirty years. When I was young, I found that I couldn’t really stick living in a house with other people about. In retrospect, this was because I simply didn’t get on with my family. But by the time I’d realised that not everyone is bloody irritating to have around for more than 48 hours, I’d found I rather enjoyed being alone.
And, of course, there’s all the habits I have, the way I’ve worked out how to live. I’m sure some must be awful to other people, although I really don’t know which ones are. They work for me, otherwise I wouldn’t use them.
I don’t really have a clue what to do to find someone. I do know I want to find someone significantly younger than me, if only because I want the option of family. But what to do? I’ve wandered round supermarkets but never found the proper aisle. I’ve really no clue.
Ok, I do know about internet dating sites, but, to be honest, I’m simply not convinced there’d be a candidate amongst the spammers, the boulders pretending to be willow, the unironable pretending to be silk: internet dating is a lee for the dishonest and the self-deluding. The fun I have on those sites is entirely non-sexual; it’s arguments and banter with fellow old grouches. I find I only go near the dating sections when drunk.