Out in the world reopening, falling in love every 15 minutes. Pretty girls and beautiful women all over. I love ’em.
But in the core of my soul, they fill me with sadness and pain. I will never be the man they want. I don’t deserve love.
When I go to Hell, you’ll find me on the second level, chasing lusty ghosts on the wind.
I’m 50. Fifty. The women my age are all sick of men and our bullshit. They’re over it. They only want two things out of men, and it’s not what you think. And it’s unconscionable pursuing anyone younger.
So my love life is over. It’s fucklessly over. Aside from a few brief dalliances while waiting for something greater, I wasted it all.