relationships

Three Sentences Revisited

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Ai employees are warning us of impending doom in the near future and politicians are calling for legislation to prevent it. So our Executive branch of government meets with a band of Ai executives and allows Ai companies to regulate themselves. Anyone know a good third sentence?

In our country’s news dissemination history, there were only a few news outlets so we all listened and talked about the same news, often with different opinions. Now, in the modern world, we can seek out a news source we like, leading to characters of all kinds pushing “news” they know we want to hear. Any wonder why we are such a fragmented society?

Are you afraid to fart in public? Yes? That makes you a private tutor.

Aging is all about loss, acceptance, and adapting. Middle of the night sleeplessness used to be about career, romance, cars, and sports. Now, wakefulness is prolonged by what is the next thing to be “gone” from life, lost. And will I be able to make myself see it as good thing to lose.

Teeth. With all the sophisticated engineering evidenced by structures like the eyeball, why do teeth rot? Why are they not titanium?

Television–or any image viewing—has gotten more complicated than a Rubik’s Cube, and more expensive. Who needs 150 channels? When someone comes up with an “a la Carte” way of selecting channels, they may make millions.*

Healthcare is beyond explanation, these days, and should be treated differently than television streaming selection. It falls under the Declaration of Independence stated right to pursue “happiness”, and you shouldn’t have to take a moment to select a health care provider as you suffer a stroke and are taken away to the hospital. Free Market be damned.

Relationships should be outlawed due to the potentially prodigious amounts of fraud and deception involved in courting, wooing, uniting, and breaking up. In 74 years (yes, I had a relationship as a baby) of personal experience and anecdotal collection, finding two people who are honest in every stage of a relationship is impossible. Most relationship fraud is by omission, not commission, and is often a result of changes brought on by natural life progressions (see paragraph 4) and “Tribe over Truth” dynamics.

Guns have reached the point where no one cares about trying to regulate them, anymore. Manufacturers flooded the world with guns in response to hysterical future and present gun owners’ worries their guns would be taken away. We should research and decide if it would prevent harm to innocent children and spectators if we returned to the Old West style of gunplay, with open, visible holsters and High Noon gunfights.**

To my limited knowledge, guns have never been legally taken away from an innocent citizen, though sometimes they should be. We err on the side of the rights of gun ownership not public safety when we debate guns. At least, make laws to severely punish “lazy” gun owners whose kids bring their weapons to school for “show and tell”.***

On a lighter note, Daily Savings Time is about to happen. It has very little effect on me but some people have strident opinions. Surprise, I don’t. (Please look up the definition of “strident.”)

Another stolen joke: I entered ten puns in a Worst Pun Contest. Did I win? No pun in ten did. If you don’t get it…

*Sling had inexpensive “by the day” passes that made TV life easier. It worked great. They stopped it recently, without warning.

**Imagine a UFC style of settling arguments. We could have national Gun Fight Tournaments by age group and caliber of weapon. Healthcare suppliers could build and name Gladiator-type arenas with sand floors to soak up the blood.

***Several cases recently in the news feeds, which can’t be trusted, anymore. Ai slop. But sometimes true.

Common Sense? Civility? Compassion? Crap

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What a world. When a young man, I conducted serious conversations by mail.* Old USPS mail. Not “E” mail. A normal, lucky conversation span was send a letter on Tuesday, hope a local person gets it by Wednesday, hope they respond by Thursday, mail it on Friday, and I get an answer by Monday. When I used the phone, someone at the receiving location had to hear the landline ring before any conversation started and several tries had to be made before someone was near enough to answer. Even then, a father or mother might not have gotten the correct message to the son or daughter because of forgetfulness or old-fashioned parental caution. An aged parent or grandparent was always a crapshoot, especially if they asked you to repeat words.

These days a text, call, or email gets from my Personal Communicating Device (PCD), either a tablet, watch, laptop, or phone (TWLP pronounced twelp), gets to the receiving PCD, instantly*.

In all cases, however, the receiving party of any mode of communication has the power and the right to respond any time they want and in any way they want. Mailed letters were often responded to by a landline phone call with the accompanying requirement of me or another human being near enough to be an “answerer”. Thank God for answering machines, though they did add another level of doubt about the accurate receipt of the message by the intended. New, modern TWLP communications can also be responded to by the receiver in the way the receiver chooses, unless specific instructions say otherwise.

Modern or Old Fashioned, there is/was always an implied contract about what was required by both sender and receiver. Sidebar: In management schools and marriage counseling sessions, I learned about The Black Box (TBB) in the middle of all normal, human communications. Speaker A says “X” into TBB but there is no guarantee Receiver B hears “X” coming out of TBB.

Understanding TBB is the main impetus for the terms of the contract: the original sender is expecting an answer from the original receiver, unless otherwise clearly stated or dubiously implied. Note: subsequent communications can be outside the contract. especially if a responder enjoys sending insipid, repetitive texts.

“Ghosting,” per Google, “is when someone suddenly stops all communication and ignores all further attempts to connect without giving warning or explanation.” Ghosting has infected communications since we started talking to each other, and was easier—and unnamed–in the old days. Mail “didn’t get to me” or “I didn’t hear the phone ring” were rude, but still possibly innocent explanations for missed messages, especially given the time frame. Theoretically, a mailed letter or phone call could even be forgotten by the sender, himself**, without noting the lack of any response if enough time elapsed.

So what’s the harm in ignoring a received communication?

I’ll tell you. Forget about the “contract”, and think about the sender. It is a civic and societal duty to respond, period. It is also compassionate to respond, especially in romantic—or potentially romantic—situations. Especially if you are the “dumper” in a relationship and the “dumpee” is ignorant of his/her/their “mistakes”. The internet is full of stories about partners and spouses ghosting each other with dramatic and sometimes mortal consequences.

Common sense: communication can stop the drama.*** We won’t mention the Golden Rule, but imagine if every relationship had a breakup clause concerning implied communications based on the Golden Rule. And everyone obeyed the clause.

To all ghosters: how would you feel if you were the ghostee and someone did it to you?

You’d feel like crap. Please feel that when you ghost, too. Or worse.

*Indicators and notifications say so on my TWLP.

**Or herself. Or themselves.

***The sad thing about rules concerning society and common sense, is the number of odd humans who have no regard for either. If your partner or spouse is “out there”, all “contracts” are voided. But do NOT abuse this exception.

Trump! A little…

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It’s been a while since Trump soiled this spot. I’ve learned to ignore his frantic actions and words, but there is one last thing to say. Or add: he is the most insecure politician, ever. God knows why, but he needs unfettered affirmation from the press, his fans, and the American citizens. Ass kissing is a better description. Thank God, for Fox News personnel. But lately, wow, it’s gone to a new level. In his first term he made a mistake and put people in place smarter than him. He learned and now the only requirement to become a Trump Administration official is how plump you can pucker your lips to kiss his “224” pound butt. And he has physically surrounded himself with gold knick-knacks borrowed from his unlimited supply of shiny bits and bobs probably filling every corner of Mar A Lago. This particular activity should put to rest his “blue collar, working man” appeal. The saddest part is the loss of teamwork. Past presidents may have had some “yes men and women”, but those presidents had enough faith in themselves to listen to others…and learn. Think of the manager of a baseball team not wanting anyone on his team who was a better player than the manager. That’s the Trump Team, these days. If Trump were truly a genius (or a good baseball player), it might work, but he isn’t. The question of the century: how long is it going to take America to see the Emperor has no clothes? (If you are young and wondering “what the heck?” Google it.)

Eh, the Trump part went a little longer, sorry. But…America better wake up and wake up soon. Again, sorry.

I’m contemplating living arrangements…for the rest of my life. The Calamities of 2023 had me wondering if I’d ever see 2025, but, now, all is well. Back to as “near normal” as any 73-year-old cancer survivor can be. My North Carolina home, if I haven’t mentioned it, was sold by my ex-girlfriend last fall as I, in NY, pondered how much longer I might live. She took all the money and the pets and fled to California, out of reach.

So. I’ll be 73 in 2 months, homeless**, alone, and making a decision which would be so much fun if I were in my 40’s. Or 50’s. Anything but 70’s. A small bank account gives me enough flexibility to be free and make any choice…as long as it fits the budget.

North Carolina calls with its temperate weather and many friends willing to put up with me. Florida beckons, as well, with communities loaded with potential new friends. And I have always loved California. For one thing, it is a big enough state for two exes. New York is attempting to sway me, too, with a 60-degree sunny day today, not knowing I have already discovered the weather forecast and snow will be in the air later this week. In Mid-April. NY you never had a chance.

The saddest part is the lack of a partner. There is a point in even a loner/misanthrope’s life where the utility of a loving life partner makes sense. Someone to get the sliver out of the bottom of your foot. Someone to complain to who knows you’re not really complaining. It’s possible to find another, but it will take time to rebuild the rich history the dance of life rewards long-partners with, and there might not be enough time. Odd, but even as a young person there was never a “guarantee” of “enough time”, a thought never even considered in decades past. As young people, we never doubted there would be enough. Now, that time is a blessing, appreciated.

Life Partner? I was just interrupted by a text message. In reading it, the other messages on my text log were at my fingertips. Almost all were from medical personnel or offices. It looked so sad. Looks like the only people who message me are the ones who get paid…

Ah, it’s not that bad. As noted, it is a beautiful spring day. Driving to my work-out this morning, I even complained about “side-face glare” from the sun. It was inescapable. As if it knew every angle to get around visors, sunglasses, body parts, and car-body frames. After inventing new swear words and cursing the low-horizon, hydrogen-burning, retina-searing, center of our universe, the humor hit: hating winter but complaining about side face glare.

Isn’t life wonderful?

**Sorry for the clunky phrasing. I am not without a place to live, I am with out a home: my own, owned, truly mine, home. I rent. Using a hyphen (home-less) might have made more of a mess. Hyphens always do, those little bastards.

Personal Issues of Men and Women

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A few days ago I wrote about a personal issue between me and a partner of 21 years.

My sad details are irrelevant but the important part was the “mechanism” of relationships, including how to start them, nurture them, and end them. Obviously my current concern is the end, but let’s not lose sight of The Start. A dating website has discussion groups entitled “Who should make the first move?” and “Should you wait for him to ask the first question?” Hm. As a young man, wondering how to start things never came up: I dove in without regard for personal safety.

Now, in the senior years, many of us are not only unsure of how to make the first move, but also unsure if we should. Are we allowed? Is it proper? These questions can still be answered with the exuberance of youth: Dive right in. Most seniors still won’t, but consider the option: waiting? The object of your interest may die before you get up the nerve.

Nurturing a relationship would take too long to explain and I’m not the best at it, anyway. This last was the longest ever, and it still did not last. We’ll talk nurturing, later.

But The End…in years of my own personal relationships, and those of close friends, The End is never simple, never easy. The Christian concept of forgiveness adds to the problem. Many a female in my past was in relationship characterized by mistreatment but kept forgiving, kept enduring. Is that wrong?

In discussing human problems we allow for the spectrum of human behavior, but in this discussion we will only deal with the “two people who truly love each” other scenario, the one where both–over many years–collect and pile up small injustices until they become a molehill. Eventually, one of the participant’s molehill becomes a mountain and a “switch is flipped”, which cannot be “unflipped”. The one with the flipped switch then needs to exit, to find relief, to find something new, find greener grass. The remaining partner never understands because the remaining partner looks at their molehill and wonders “I put up with theirs, why can’t he/she/them put up with mine?” The defining characteristic of this ending is that both departed and remaining partners think they are right, think they are the victims, and are the aggrieved. The worst case scenario for intelligent, well-meaning people.

Yes, I’ve experienced this, but been there for many others, male and female, when it happened. In reality, neither is really wrong, but friends and family take sides, anyway, and then…well, anything can happen. It doesn’t help to mention to all the “two sides to every story” nugget. It doesn’t help to say time will heal everything, either. With this ending, both sides suffer, and have unresolved questions about why. And sometimes unresolved questions cause irrational acts. Ugh. Again, everyone suffers. And the two actor’s communication falls apart, ending all hope.

Maybe this ending is an American thing. Maybe our rich and powerful drug companies could develop a pill for endings/divorce that wipes out memory and leaves both participants with a clean slate. It would be a moneymaker.

But it is life. Having The End happen is not new, but to have it happen at a senior age is. The “time will heal all wounds” becomes irrelevant. Moot. Much like seniors.

It is still life, but a new kind, an unexplored territory with a definite horizon in the foreseeable future, for both of us.

Time to dive right in.