My first romantic relationship happened when i was 20 years old, the summer of my sophomore year of college — i was a late bloomer; my first kiss had only been the summer before.

The ending of that first relationship (or rather my reaction to its ending) nearly killed me, literally; but the story of my suicide attempt is for another day.

I spent the rest of my 20s, 30s, & 40s pursuing further relationships, eventually with some success (after many failures). Part of the problem: i was not really a prime candidate for relationships. My TBI (from the suicide attempt) left me permanently on disability and less able to handle the emotional overhead of a long term relationship.

I came close a couple of times, with Amanda in Arizona and with Margot in Massachusetts. But it wasn’t until i got my shit together (in therapy, with the purpose of finding the right relationship) that i went on a dating site and found Sandi. Or rather, i should say, she found me.

Sandi pursued me in July 2011, and we went to dinner after a few chats … and then we fell completely in love with each other. Soon she moved into my apartment, and 6 months after our first date she proposed to me. We were married in April of 2013.

The relationship with Sandi was imperfect, but it probably was as close as i will ever get to perfection. Sandi accepted me, and i did my best to accept her. I accepted her sometimes; i accepted her partially — i could only accepted most of her; i wasn’t capable of accepting everything. I fell short. But Sandi did her best to love me 100%, and i guess that’s enough for my whole life.  It’s more than some people ever get.

In that last year of taking care of her as she died of cancer, i did my best to make up for my shortcomings.

Nobody had ever really loved me before, and maybe nobody ever will again. I’m not looking for a perfect man-woman love anymore; maybe there is no such thing.

It’s more than i have ever gotten before. Yes, she was a better person than I was; but i was finally able to give a lot to someone — to stay with them until the end; to finally succeed at love. It may be my last relationship, but it was a pretty good one. 

Sandi died in November 2024 — 13 years and 3 months after we met.

Just focusing on the orgasm end of the pleasure spectrum: some women can experience pleasure when the end of their cervix is (gently) stimulated, in addition to the pleasure from clitoral stimulation (and everything else!); for others, cervical stimulation is uncomfortable.

(Or at least that’s been my experience, from my point of view, when i was very female-orgasm-centric. But i’m single again now; let’s see what AI has to say.)

~

Cervical and clitoral orgasms are distinct but related, differing in sensation and source: 

Clitoral orgasms are often described as sharp, localized, electric, and pleasurable (from external stimulation), while cervical orgasms (from deep stimulation of the “C-spot”) are often reported as deeper, longer, throbbing, body-wide, and sometimes linked to the vagus nerve, though both involve brain activation, showing varied paths to climax. 

Clitoral Orgasm

• Source: Direct or indirect stimulation of the clitoris (glans, bulbs, crura).
• Feeling: Sharp, intense, localized, electric, bursting.
• Duration: Often shorter-lasting. 

Cervical Orgasm

• Source: Stimulation of the cervix (sometimes called the “C-spot”).
• Feeling: Deep, diffuse, throbbing, strong, body-wide, potentially extending to the uterus or abdomen.
• Nerve Pathway: Involves the vagus nerve, which the clitoris doesn’t, potentially explaining the different sensation.
• Duration: Can be longer-lasting. 

Key Differences & Similarities

• Sensation: Clitoral is often external/localized; cervical is internal/deep/whole-body.
• Nerves: Different nerve pathways contribute to unique feelings.
• Brain Activity: Both activate similar sensory areas in the brain, showing different paths to the same outcome.
• Blended Orgasms: Many people experience “blended” orgasms combining both clitoral and deeper stimulation. 

~

And this is not to say that orgasm is the be-all and end-all of pleasure; it’s just one component, one part of the great continuum of pleasure.

Who am i to write about women’s pleasure at all? Just an enthusiastic student, that’s all.

I do not participate.

When i jumped off the bridge in 1991, that was my main message — i didn’t want to play anymore. I was done. But the universe had other plans for me, apparently.

So diminished-capacity me is still here, drinking coffee and hanging around. The new me participates a little, as i can. Expectations (of me) have been properly lowered. My expectations of the world are similarly not extensive.

So i sit alone now at a table at the party, but i’m still smiling. I don’t stay long after my friends leave, but i had to finish my beer.

I am blessed; i am privileged; and i am thankful to quietly remain on the edges of life. I had my fifteen minutes of fame long ago, and then i got to retire.

As long as there are stories to read, videos to watch, and walks to be taken … i will be ok. Pay your money and make your choice; life goes on. The world of information has evolved, and it will continue to evolve.

The years go by, and we go with them. Times change, but people don’t change much. Dreams fade, and hope swindles. Each of us, whoever is left, wakes up each morning and begins again.

For the same reasons i don’t like writing fiction, i often don’t like writing blog entries — interesting stories are usually about people, and i’m really tired of writing about people; i only like people-stuff in small doses.

I mostly like abstractions of people, not so much live experiences with actual people anymore. However, i do have a couple of established friends; and we watch movies or go on walks, or that kind of thing. I see one of them IRL about once a week, and it’s enough.

I go to a Unitarian church once a week too if i can get a ride; that’s *more* than enough group social interaction.

My late wife’s sci-fi group adopted me, and i try to make it to their semi-annual gatherings. In the summer, I can bicycle there; in the winter, i need a ride. (They also hosted an amazing after-wedding party when we were married.)

A goal for me for the future is to take advantage of paid ride services more and give my friends a break driving me.

~

Winter is depressing. It’s not even technically winter yet, and i’m already feeling down. Bad enough that bicycling is a lot less fun on icy roads, but the whole early-sunset thing is enough to make anyone want to hibernate.

How is everyone doing?

For those who dislike the holiday season, i concur.

L’Chaim!

When Sandi and i were married, i never found a good way to deal with my underlying anger; i had never gotten over it from my teens and 20s, plus the traumatic brain injury (at 21). And it definitely contributed to Sandi and me having more problems.

Has my anger faded? Some. Maybe it slowly became disappointment and disillusionment with how life turned out. Sadness. I try not to dwell on it.

Normally i stay positive and even friendly; i refuse to give in to bleak thoughts, but my dark side is still there. When i need to (and i’m in control) i can harness it. Not always.

If you ever spent time with me while i was going through some minor adversity, you would probably see me lose my shit — especially if i was tired. I’d yell at a computer voice on the phone. In the past, i might have broken something i value, just because i was frustrated. With the TBI, i lost 90% of my coping skills; that’s why i try to sleep well and avoid bad situations: Because sometimes i cannot handle them.

That’s why i can’t work a job: because i would go off on somebody at work when it was stressful. Let’s face it; jobs are difficult, and that’s why they pay. If it was all sunshine and roses, they wouldn’t need to pay. And it’s embarrassing, not having enough emotional self-control to live a normal life. I tried to pretend i could handle it at different times in the past, but i never could — over & over again.

What’s worse is that the TBI was from a suicide attempt; i brought it on myself, jumping off that bridge. It’s my own damned fault, 100%.

That’s what i have to live with. My salvation is that i have patient friends and family: they accept me.

Thank you for listening.

❤️

“I was young and foolish then.

I feel old and foolish now.”

~ They Might Be Giants

I never know what a new day is going to bring.

Each day is different. Each day has prizes to be found and hazards to be avoided.

Some days i have the energy to face the day; some days i don’t go out much.

But i can always depend on a little writing to take me somewhere, and i have no idea where i’ll end up when i begin — writing takes on a life of its own; start it up and let it go!

Everyone has their own individual writing process. Some plan. Some wing it. Some combine the two.

I need to learn to convert my enjoyment of writing description into writing action and dialogue. My biggest blessing is not needing to be paid for my efforts.

Who cares? Sometimes i can’t remember. I’m starting to have real problems with my memory; i go to do something and i forget what i was doing before i get to do it, or i forget who i was thinking about. Maybe it’s the THC; maybe i need to cut back a little.

I do like new beginnings; so each day i can generate some enthusiasm for it just being a new one, and i smile.

See you tomorrow!

So it’s been a year, and i finally realize what it is that i really miss about being in a relationship.

I miss being able to say basically *anything* to someone, to share my most intimate thoughts and painful musings; then i got their reaction and i would hear their difficult stuff in return.

I can write a lot of things in my blog, but i try not to share inappropriate things — things i could say to my beloved (and that she was often enthusiastic to hear … the more inappropriate, the better!).

Maybe Sandi didn’t always want to hear my most intimate thoughts, but mostly she did; and she seemed to feel good telling me some of hers. Mutual escape valves, that’s what it felt like; and it mostly kept us from exploding — a way of blowing off steam.

I guess that’s what my writing has become: an emotional escape valve. Maybe it always was. Maybe other people’s too. Perhaps that’s what writing (or talking) was always about!

J. D. Salinger famously wrote “Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

It is easier not saying anything to IRL people, but just writing things instead. Easier in lots of ways. Maybe i’m learning not to miss it, talking with people.

Who and what do you fantasize about? (And never mind about the ‘whom’ — i know.)

That was the inappropriate subject i alluded to earlier — stuff that i maybe shouldn’t say out loud to the general audience. (Of course i’m drawn to taboo subjects.)

But it’s still a worthwhile topic, i think. Who is it safe for you to fantasize about? Friends, acquaintances, coworkers, celebrities, strangers, people you see at the café, people you see at church, people you make up in your head, et cetera?

Or is no one safe to fantasize about?

And who do you think might fantasize about *you*? Of course you might not want to know, but it’s just a fantasy.

It’s sort of nice being in the post-relationship phase of my life: i can think about these things and have a chuckle.

It’s much more comforting (for me) to fantasize than to pursue another IRL relationship. Reality never lives up to the fantasy, and maybe i don’t have the heart to try again.

[Note: This is one of those subjects that i was initially enthusiastic about, but then later i had doubts; better to just publish it and move on, that’s my thinking.]

I went for a walk this morning to Nara Park to see the sunrise. It’s a beautiful place only a mile or so away — a perfect destination and turnaround point for a daily jaunt through the woods.

Having such opportunities as clean, lovely places to walk and well-maintained bicycle paths to ride on is a true blessing.

My friends help me with things that i cannot easily do on my own — a real community, neighbors & church & friends, though i am often too withdrawn to take full advantage of it.

People who know me are also patient and understanding of my limitations.

The freedom to read and study and live a quiet life is of immense value to me, and i am glad for the reminder to appreciate it.

Thank you.

(Another year goes by.)

After the last episode of Brothers & Sisters, they mention a supposed George Eliot quote:

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

But those words do not appear in any of George Eliot’s published works or letters.

I ask the AI internet, and it spits out:

~ Attributed to George Eliot, with some sources noting it was submitted by a reader in an 1881 publication and later included in lists of Eliot’s sayings.

In 1881 the quotation being traced was printed in “Literary News” as noted previously. The expression was submitted by a reader of the periodical and no source was designated:

It is never too late to be what you might have been.

In 1884 the saying was included in an article about Eliot published in the “Illinois School Journal’. The phrase appeared in a section called “Extracts” that listed twenty quotes attributed to Eliot.⁷

7) 1884 February, Illinois School Journal, General Exercises by Edward Bangs, (Discussion of George Eliot: 1820-1880), Start Page 250, Quote Page 250, Normal, Illinois. (Google Books Full View) link 

The quote sounded good, so people were happy to say it was George Eliot, regardless of whether or not she actually said it.

So i think the Jake quote from the end of The Sun Also Rises is apt.