You wake up erect. You hear this is uncommon for men at fifty, yet here you are. Your eyes turn to the bathroom as that slight headache also wakes. You think about the escort you came across on Twitter and quickly attempt to push the thought from your mind. Instead, you think about how all of the worldâs problems exist because no one is loved the way they want to be loved. Probably a dumber thought than ruining your life and spending money on a woman who will just resent you more than any unpaid companion has.
You get up and walk to the bathroom. You stand naked, hunched over your bathroom sink, headphones on, your phone in one hand and masturbating with the other. Youâre listening to melancholic music that youâd oddly also like to make love to. You look at mostly naked women on Tumblr because you fear masturbating to real porn will hasten erectile problems already showing at inoportune times. You prefer short videos to photos. The way they move and look into the camera helps you convince yourself, for the slightest of moments, that they could actually want you.
Thankfully, your eyes arenât bad enough that you need reading glasses, as that would only make this entire scene that much more humiliating.
Ultimately, the time spent curating the experience lasts longer than the experience itself. You finish in the sink. You turn the water on and want to cry, but you canât. Immediately afterward, the depression washes over you. Itâs as overwhelming as always. You feel worse than you did before.
This is your love life. This is all the actual âloveâ you will ever have.
Your thoughts then quickly turn to the bottle of Tylenol PM you have hidden underneath your bathroom sink. Itâs not there to help with sleeping with a headache. Would the entire bottle with a heavy dose of tequila do the trick?
Instead, youâll shower, put on those ill-fitting pants, and go to work.
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