We need to be touched

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We intuitively know this, but with the hustle and bustle of our ‘work a day world’, it’s easy to forget this simple fact.

Massage can fill part of the void, if you’re living alone and aren’t seeing anyone. 

Contrary to popular belief, not every massage is a vehicle to have sex and not every masseuse or masseur is a prostitute using a clever (or not so clever) disguise to take money for sex.

Although I have been fortunate enough to have a number of massages that ended with me being invited to spend the night. However, that was something that two consenting adults entered into as adults, and no-one was “on the clock”. We were just two people having a good time and the vibe was right.

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I’ve had an equal number of massages that ended with me getting dressed, saying, “Thank you” and leaving.

My point however is that If we’re not touched, and acknowledged we start to become a little strange. Our needs aren’t being met and we sometimes become antisocial, or extremely needy. I’ve been both, sometimes simultaneously. 

On a subconscious level we know we need social interaction and a subtext to that is that we need to feel the warmth of another person’s touch. Lots of folks use the sterility of the internet to fill the need for interaction. Twitter, Facebook, and the various dating sites or chat applications have made millions of people feel relevant, perhaps even loved. But I think that the folks feeling “loved” because they have a bunch of “Likes” or thousands of followers is demonstrative of a sort of twisted adaptation to feelings of isolation.

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This point has been recently brought home to me. 

I talk to people all day long, I help people and move on to the next person in need. You’d think I’d have enough interaction to feel fulfilled. 

I don’t. 

Those people that I help are ephemeral. They’re just voices on the phone and most of the time they’re very needy. By the time I’m done with my day, I’m tired and really don’t want to talk to anyone else on the phone. So I entertain myself with the TV until it’s time to go to bed to get up and go back to work.

It doesn’t help that I work odd hours and weekends. By the time most people get to work, I’ve already been working 3 or 4 hours. The oddness of my work schedule has advantages and disadvantages.

The advantage is that I usually miss the stupid traffic of the San Diego area. The disadvantage is that I’m home mid-afternoon and “normal” people aren’t available. When “normal” people are available, I’m heading to bed.

When I’m done with my day, I’m tired. It’s more emotionally tired than physical, so it’s easy to be isolated, and allow that isolation to continue.

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I could stop someplace for happy hour but have you spent much time at a bar at 2PM in the afternoon?

Trust me, it isn’t pretty; not the kinds of people you’re likely to meet and develop healthy friendships with. Bars in general are dimly lit for a reason!

Gyms are better but even there, you’re dealing with folks that are probably not going to have time. They’re squeezing in a workout before they go on to the next thing; picking up the kids, heading to work on their own odd schedule, or in some cases just creepy people looking for something else entirely. 

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I’d been going along for months (possibly years off & on) fooling myself into believing that I was OK. Then because I was in some pain I went and had a massage.

Another person touching me slammed into my consciousness like a sledgehammer. I wanted, needed to feel the warmth of another person. I needed to hear that other person breathing and smell them. I needed the full 3D experience and to know that I was, in fact not alone.

A week or so later, I had the distinct pleasure of having a friend visit, and again I was struck by the power of someone else being physically in my space. It was comforting and settling and again hit me upside the head that I’d been too isolated for too long.

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A few nights later, I went out with a coworker that I enjoy being around. We had drinks, ate and laughed. I realized that even simple (non-work) interactions are very satisfying, while not very intimate or sexual, its far better than the cold interaction of words or pictures on a display.

All of this brings home two undeniable points. It’s not good to be isolated, especially in a crowd. And I need to find another job that pays better and is not on such an isolating schedule.

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All of this is to say; if you’re feeling isolated, or lonely, turning to the internet is probably not the healthiest source of “connection”.  Close the laptop, put the phone down, and turn off the TV. That’s what I’m going to be doing and hopefully I’ll be able to provide some pointers to finding something fulfilling over the next few months.

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Getting home from a hard day at work. I get out of my car and see two neighbors having a conversation. I think nothing of it at first.

It’s only as I’m opening my car passenger door to get my backpack that I clearly hear the woman in the conversation fairly shrieking “You touched your penis!

Some part of my exhausted brain went, “Huh? What?”

The conversation that I heard after that went something like;

You touched your penis, you were in my apartment. You’re a piece of filth! No wonder your wife left you, no wonder your son doesn’t want to live with you. I hope everyone figures out what a peice of trashy filth you are!

The man who was the object of this tirade is using a cane to walk, he moves slowly and uncertainly, due to severe spinal damage. In other words, this guy is probably zero threat to a woman. And God only knows that he may have adjusted himself because of something to do with the injuries.

I honestly don’t know, I wasn’t there. I can say that occasionally this guy when I’ve spoken to him outside the apartments. I have noticed that sometimes (clearly unconsciously he adjusts himself). Honestly it looks like he’s in pain when he does it.

As I focused on the “Conversation” I could see that he was genuinely ashamed. I could also see that the woman was quite enraged.

Then I really took a look at her and the first thought I had was she looked like Jabba the Hut.

Hell, I’d have been adjusting myself to prevent my penis from crawling up inside.

But then I realized I was downwind. I couldn’t help but notice the fetid odor of unwashed human, with just a touch of yeasty vagina. Yeah, I could smell all this from about 10 feet away.

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Now I have a conundrum, I can ignore this insanity. Or I can say what I really think, which is;

Damn lady if this broken old man is getting wood because of your fat stinky ass, you should count yourself lucky. I’d imagine there’s been nothing twix your legs that didn’t run on batteries for decades. I’d bet your vibrators are so stinky that you have to replace them every month because some stink just never goes away. I’d never punish my dick by putting it in you. Hell, seeing you naked would make me want to suck cock for free, on the street, in Iran! At least then my torment would be ended quickly by a fall from a tall building.

But I weighed my options, decided that I was too tired and that this was not my battle.

After all for me, very few people I encounter would be worth my energy.

I evaluated the situation for a moment more…

I closed the passenger door to the car, shook my head and walked away.

Neither of these people were my concern.

In retrospect, I think that it was the shrillness of the harridan, and how closely she was mimicking, so closely the “Group Think” of the feminist movement today. Obviously she thought all men were scum but wasn’t pretty enough or gutsy enough to simply declare she was a lesbian.

Some gay men who never fully embrace their gayness get really weird and very hostile to women and other gay men. Perhaps this was the female version of the phenomenon.

Remotely interesting… Still not interesting enough for me to engage. Perhaps it was simple penis envy… Nope, not interesting enough.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, unlocked and opened the door, closed it behind me and was immediately cloaked in silence.

Bliss!

I guess that I’m just over all the politics, victimhood, and insanity.

I did feel kinda bad for the guy.

But like most men, I figured if he wouldn’t defend himself then I wasn’t going to do it for him.

Yep, the peace of my apartment was a lot better than listening to a shrill bitch badmouthing men simply because we have external plumbing.

No interest in Watching Superbowl…

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First time in years I haven’t been interested.

For many years, I’ve settled in Superbowl Sunday with beer, junk food and watched, relaxing and enjoying the entertainment.

This year, zero interest. 

I’m not even sure why.

I’ve been wondering if it was all the controversy over standing (or not) for the National Anthem.

Or was it that last years commercials were boring and Politically Correct to the point that no-one remembered them? 

Or that the half-time show was largely forgettable. 

Last Years game doesn’t stand out in my mind either.

I’m wondering if it’s just that I’m tired of endless controversies.

What used to be a fun diversion, and entertaining escape for 4 hours has become mediocre in it’s conformity.

Rather than watch something that I used to really enjoy, and be sad that it’s not the fun it used to be, I’ll spare myself the sadness and read a book.