I’ve been single on and off for the last eight years. I’ve had some relationships. I’ve come out. I may or may not be in a relationship right now. Everything I do is way too complicated, even for me.
I’m pansexual and poly, so the relationship thing is sometimes irrelevant. I get bored. I want a hug. I want to go outside. I want to have bad sex. I want to have good sex. I want a drink. Some empty small talk. Some fun. A sandwich with a side of lady. I want more sex. I want more time. I want lovers more than partners. Sometimes I want a partner, but I don’t want them to tell me what to do, so yeah, THE APPS.
Just today a person on an APP asked me how long I had been single. I didn’t want to answer, but I texted back something like the above, but shorter and clearer. “You?” I politely asked back.
“I’ve been single for three years, but she cheats so I had to divorced her.”
I said a nice good-bye and un-matched. He was from Western NY, same as me. This was not an EFF thing, which I don’t care about. I can only speak one language, who am I to judge. I’d misremembered Western NY things. That was on me.
I’m 49. I have pretty good mom bod. I’m a genius. I’m pretty funny when I’m not super sad. I own my own apartment, that is, I have a mortgage in forebearance on a roach infested coop…
