As a middle age man who has not yet started to send gifts, I would probably say yes, he is cheating and I am. But then again so is the guy who used to check out the young women at the mall.

But this is not to assign blame. But about how difficult it is to admit to yourself and the one you promised to care for and love, that the desire is gone. To look at someone in the eyes and to tell her/him, “Sorry I know you from left and right and you are no longer fun. And we grew this toxic patterns of communication even before Annie showed up, and I’m craving for anyone who would tell me I’m great and not a loser. And nevertheless you have been my home for so long.”

At the end, we don’t really know the person with whom we fall in love, they are usually a fantasy. And if we don’t come to terms with that, we won’t see pass the surface, and the same as we fell for wifey when she was fun and young and we imagined everything else from the surface, we’ll make the same mistake with Annie, even if Annie is Annie.

Come to terms with ourselves, the fact that intimacy goes beyond her perky thighs?

Or go to, I’m going to write myself a profile, Medium is not making bank and I want a new car. And I know exactly what a middle age guy wants!

(Is the moral of the story at least meet Annie next time and don’t think of it as love? Am I getting too callous Reuben? Wait, don’t answer that)


Finding inspiration in movement. Searching for identity with words, and without them.

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