Note: This blog was originally posted on 4060men.com on May 26, 2011. I've been remarried now for over three years.
At any one time, I’m on at least one dating website. These days, I’m on only one. Well, I get a message from one gal with whom I had just started communicating that ended with the question, ‘What are your faults?’. . .
In many ways, I’ve lived my life as the ‘good soldier’ and ‘faithful servant,' doing as I thought was the right thing.
If you’ve read a few of my blogs, you soon will get the feeling that I could get a lot of things to talk about from movies. Again today is one of my favorites, the 1999 movie, The Matrix. After some ten years, . . .
I’m thinking about all the millions of people out there, mostly men, who are stewing in their own soup right now wondering if or when they will be found out. From those in jobs we might say are in sensitive areas, such as the White House, Congress and the Pentagon, to church pastors and mini-celebrities like Josh Duggar, each one probably has . . .
Recently I was reminded that my thinking about life may need adjustment, especially when it comes to my assumptions about how many years I have left on this earth. For the most part, I charge into things more or less like I did 20 or 30 years ago. While I’m more selective as to what kinds of things I’ll charge into, the basic M.O. seems the . . .
It is clearly past time to put my pinkies to the keyboard for 4060men. I see by the date of the last post that it has been over two years since I’ve written here. In fact, I feel a little bit like Neo from the Matrix when he enters the dingy dark room to meet Morpheus for the first time. Remember? Red pill or blue pill. Was definitely . . .
One of the great things about being single, an adult, and being independent in so many ways is that I don’t have to do much I don’t want to do. The flip side of that is that I can do what I want to do, more or less. That is both a great enabling thing and a terribly debilitating thing.
As midlife men, single midlife men at that, it . . .
Bad-hair days for me start with, well, bad hair. Actually, not always, I suppose.
My hair is a great example of what is meant by the phrase "You look like a ‘shock of wheat’", as my dad used to say. I envy people who have hair that looks essentially the same when they get up as when they went to bed. I must be a violent man . . .