He sits in Barnes and Noble on a Sunday and posts on Reddit. He longs for a connection, but doesn't hold his breath. He's had enough conversations to learn that the person he wants to connect with likely doesn't exist. It's sad because he's a deep guy with a whole universe to share, but finding someone to share it with has proven to be a mostly hopeless venture. Part of the problem is him. He knows that. He's eccentric and idiosyncratic and unorthodox. He's also grumpy and gruff, though you will never know him to not be kind. And he's been wounded. Some women cannot handle wounds. He's like... a Civil War soldier.. coming home in 1865. He survived the war. But he's got a wound. These days, to have wounds and actually hope that someone might care is terribly unfashionable. In this world, you must heal on your own, in an absolute vacuum, or else therapists come out of the woodwork and accusing you of trauma bonding. 🙄 He doesn't give a fuck. He's becoming quite accustomed to being alone. This is in direct violation of his unique wiring, as this is a man who thrives in partnership. Or at least he did, once. He was married once. But not now. He tries to be strong, because he has responsibilities, but inside, this sensitive and delicate man is screaming. He's stuck in a geographical location that he very much hopes to escape someday. He tries to have dreams about the future... but hope does NOT spring eternal. His whole life is work and taking care of his sick mother. He has no social life. He's really a loner. He had hoped at one time to pass this life in a loving partnership with another loner... but the sun is setting fast on such whimsical fantasies. He's so lonely he spoons pillows at night, weeping. Yes... that is what it has come to for this guy. It's not so much that he has no one in his life loving him... it's that all the evidence suggests he never will.

All he wants is a home. Where there is love.