Buzz Kill

Good-bye, Gentlemen of Bumble!

Gentlemen of a certain age in your Spandex bicycle pants, farewell.

Farewell, Gentlemen in front of Christmas trees with your divorce-scarred families.

So long, gentlemen on boats, in sunglasses with teeth bared.

Good-bye, gentlemen holding cats and gentlemen held down by cats — I liked you best.

I am sorry; I tried to say good-bye “in person.” I sent a message to each of you, one by one. Then I deleted my account. Poof! I was gone, and too late realized my farewell message as well.

It’s not you, it’s not me — it’s Bumble. Well, it’s Bumble and me, and probably you, too; else we wouldn’t have been here on this island of broken toys. I never meant to hurt your feelings, those of you who exist in the material world and have feelings that can be hurt. I know I am real; some of you must be, too.

I am 62 and down to one running-around friend within 400 miles — lunch or dinner and a mild cultural event every other month or so. One grown child lives far away. Otherwise, work, house — mid-level management in government and a house and garden in the category of bitten-off-more-than-I can-chew. Five years since divorce; nine years since separation; 32 years since a date. Most pertinent that Friday night in February: six months since the end of the most surprising, fulfilling and unsuitable attachment imaginable. Eight years of that, off and on; not what you could call dating. It simply WAS.

And then, it was not.

Willie Nelson has been my constant companion these past months:

“Now that I’ve made up my mind you’re gone
It should be easier now. . .
A heart can be broken and still survive. . .
The wounds in my heart you carved deep and wide. . . It should be easier now. . .”

Then comes the part that I don’t particularly buy:

“Now there’ll be more room for love inside
It should be easier now.”

(But how lovely here are the many shades of ‘should’!)

I need more to distract me than my sudden craving to master 40 Thieves, which works for minutes at at time. I…

Related posts:

I was diagnosed at the age of 8 with Aspergers syndrome, this explained alot of confusion i had growing up, i was not like other children what so ever, i was bullied relentlessly from nursery until…

As I was enduring hard lifestuff last week, I had a realization: I often turn situations back on myself and my feelings without recognizing the pain of the other. Like, WTH is that? Narcissistic? It…

Bad Advice should be a TV show. VERY funny.. “Take it to the next level” is published by Steven White.