Oh brother. This 50 stuff is a bitch, except now I’m 51 and I’m still reeling. Actually, I’ve been reeling ever since I remember. Anyway. Things I’ve wanted to write about, but haven’t:
- The correlation between winter sun (lack thereof) and diminished libido, supported by one study I found which shows September, October and November to have the most births — sap starts rising in January. That, at least, was my hope.
- The problem with fuck-buddies and friends with benefits? Mistaking sexual experience for sexual knowledge. Playing the same song over and over again, and again, and again. That would be a general rant, or maybe an exploration, based on a blog entry I read recently, not from anything I’ve ever experienced, case anyone was wondering.
- How lovely it is to find old letters — actual physical letters! — from my salad days, and how terribly sad it is for people who will never have that, whose love letters are on a disk somewhere, if at all, in the ephemera. Handwriting is great stuff — love on a page. And the pace! “Write back soon,” she’d say, and you knew it would be at least a week before she’d see a letter.
- How dizzying it is to look back, when your past starts to recede farther than the human brain can grok.
- How depressed and jealous I get about other people’s lives, friends I knew way back when, how we ended in such different places and how where I am now feels really small in comparison. I should not do this, I know. It always causes me trouble but I can’t help it.
- How this — “this” being broadly defined — really has nothing to do with M, it has everything to do with me and my various lacks. As I’ve stopped writing about how my marriage doesn’t work for me, it’s been working for me. Or at least, it’s been better. Have I gotten to “wow” yet?
- How I still get the butterflies with N, and it’s been 6 months.
What should I write about? I suppose all of them.