Good mor... no fuck it... too late

It’s still January.

It’s still only January.

“I need to know you’ll be available and horny for my dick in March.”

😂

Also

Showing up on time is not a reason to be praised. In social settings it’s common courtesy. In the work place it’s expected. The only other reasonable option is to not show up at all. On time or not at all. Those are your choices. 

There’s nothing quite like angry bitter adults with tons of emotional baggage online trying to get laid.

“I show up on time.”

Neat. What else?

I’ve been divorced for five years. I’m just now ready to date. Or should I say I’m available. I could be dead tomorrow. I could have had a stroke seven years ago and not know it, then stroke out again today, and die. It’s really just that easy for people my age, thank you for educating everyone ‘Grace and Frankie’ season 3, episode 12. 

While my mind is still cold hard steel, it’s my body that feels very different. Very, very different. I feel old. You’re as old as you feel? Well then I must have died two years ago. 

Hot flashes, cold sweats, constant back and joint pain, random blurred vision, constant fatigue, Weight gain, weight loss, morning gas, night gas, and abdominal pain. Did I mention hot flashes? I literally feel like I’m on fire. No wonder so many marriages end when she’s right around 48 years old. Doesn’t surprise me for a minute. I have about three good hours a day. Three if I’m lucky.

I like watching ‘Grace And Frankie’ on Netflix. And while they are in their 60’s and 70’s, and I’m 50, it’s interesting seeing them portrayed as they are. 

January 26, Alan Canter, of Canter’s deli in West Hollywood, CA, died. And while to the best of my knowledge the deli will remain open, Canter’s death resonates with me. I can’t count how many late night meals my friends and I have had at that deli during the 25 years I lived in LA. People like Beth and Paul. We all met back in 1993, a big group of us, and as our lives shifted from one thing to another, we still met at Canter’s. 

I have a long time friend I met back in 1991, his current wife hates women, but she especially hates me. She doesn’t understand why anyone “hangs on” to friends from the past. In other words, she doesn’t understand friends. Or maybe she does understand friends, and just hates the fact I know her husband in an intimate way she never will. He and I first became friends during a time when he and I were young. Barely adults. A time no one who comes after will have with us ever again. I suppose that’s cause for jealousy if what he had is more important than what he has or will have. Either way, one’s past is an unremovable part of one’s life. Even with amnesia it’s still there. You either accept someone’s past or you do not. My friend is a very tolerant man, but I guess you have to be at our age. Our options of companionship aren’t as plentiful as they once were. 

At 50, we swap options for knowledge. 

Edgy old angry bitter knowledge. 

Yup