Well, my full time job and somewhat erratic schedule has kept me too busy to do much with my writing. Sorry about that.
And I've had an emotional setback recently that is making me re-evaluate my priorities on some things.
Pardon me, while I ramble...
Understand, first of all, that despite having turned 66 this year, I have the physical stamina and libido of a woman in her late 20's to early 30's, and I dress and act like a woman in that age range. I'm an 'Energizer Bunny' personified - the girl who can energetically dance all night, to almost every song being played, with hardly any breaks. In person, I can pass for being in my late 20's, and I even get carded in bars relatively often, by bartenders uncertain if I am over 21 or not. Even when someone knows me well enough to know I have a 27 year old daughter, and after they have had a really good look at me, they still tend to guess my age at 10 to 20 years younger than I really am. This means that dating partners my own age or older are very unlikely to keep up with me, on the dance floor, or in the bedroom. So I am quite unashamed to admit to being a 'cougar' when it comes to seeking romantic partners. Because younger partners are the only ones who can keep up with me. I'm also in good enough physical health to expect to live for many more years - well into my 90's.
And although I am a transgender woman (male to female), I also consider myself primarily lesbian. I'm bi enough to still occasionally respond to male intimate attention, but it's not really my thing. I'll dance and cuddle freely with anyone, but as far as dating goes, I have much more interest in women.
Well, for a while now, I've had a male friend who was a life-long gay man. His home is in a nearby RV Resort community, where I often go for camping, swimming, karaoke nights, dancing, and other recreation. That resort is a more than 30 minute drive from my home, but I like going there, and sometimes even just do 'day trips', driving there for a karaoke night or an evening dance, and then driving back home, rather than camping overnight. During the last two or three years, he'd happily dance with me if we were both at the same dance party. He'd even slow dance with me. And he was a good dancer. But he was two years older than me, and although rather handsome, he still looked his age, and he had the energy level one would expect for a gentleman in his mid 60's. He'd spend a lot more time sitting and watching me sing or dance, than he would spend dancing - with me or anyone else. We both accepted that we were looking for someone of our own gender as dating partners. So we pretty much just remained casual, platonic friends.
Well, last Winter, we began to become closer. After an evening event, when we were among the last people to leave the bar at something like 11 pm, a fierce thunderstorm was in progress. He offered that I could spend the night at his place, rather than driving home at night, during a bad storm. Particularly as we had both been drinking rather freely. Strictly a gentlemanly, platonic gesture, which he offered to other friends on occasion as well. He had a guest bedroom, or I could crash on his couch, or... well, you can imagine, but there seriously were no intimate expectations beyond cuddling, if I chose option three. I accepted his offer. That swiftly became an open offer for future stays at his home, and... option three. And everything remained platonic cuddling, but, well, after dozens of additional overnight visits, we were both surprised to admit a swiftly growing physical attraction for each other, and we even began saying 'I love you' to each other, and meaning it as 'more than just friends'. Neither of us wanted to turn what we had into monogamously dating each other, but we agreed that if it felt right, that platonic line might eventually get crossed.
But literally the morning after we did cross that line, and he 'got to third base', he became seriously ill. We backed off on intimacy, so he could focus on regaining his strength. Sadly, he never did. After several trips to the hospital, he was diagnosed with a rapidly developing stage 4 cancer. He passed away on my birthday, a few weeks ago.
I wasn't even that sure I should call him 'my boyfriend', before he passed away. But I'd begun to think of him that way.
His memorial service is in a few weeks, and my employer is giving me a day off with pay, to attend it.
I'm still kind of in shock on how swiftly his health declined. I mean, he was only two years older than me, right?
And I look at the time I've spent writing, and the few people who really seem to care when I post more content, and... is it worth it? I don't know, any more. I'm sure my time could be better spent. The same can be said for my fursuit making efforts.
I like writing slice-of-life stories, and creating characters with rich back stories. But it just seems like no one cares, other than me. Unless I write it as rampant, edgy porn. Which I don't really want to do. And while my fursuit making gets positive comments, only a couple of people have wanted to commission me to make that sort of stuff for them.
I thrive on positive feedback. On people making comments that indicate they enjoy my efforts. When only a couple of people bother to comment, it's hard to spend the time to even post what I already wrote for my own enjoyment.
So, talk to me. Let me know you care.
Tell your friends about my stories, so they can comment as well.
Give me a reason to post more stuff here.
