You Have No Idea How Uninterested I Am

Perhaps its my age. I mean, I'm 50 soon. But I think I missed the memo where it says all heterosexual men are automatically interested in and drawn to women. I'm not. I mean I'm really not. In the nicest possible sense I find almost all of you entirely uninteresting. I'm more likely to be thinking about a peice of tech, or a place I want to visit, or having a beef toastie. You take up literally none of my waking hours. Thing is, according to some that's all men think about. All we obsess about. We spend every waking minute working out how we're going to find our way into your knickers. Now I'm sure your knickers are expensive and lovely, but again I have zero interest in plotting some devious path into them. You don't interest me. Nothing about you interests me. I've more compelling things on my mind. Now I expect there's a sub section of guys who do stray into those creepier realms of behaviour. Who do letch, who do objectify, and who does cause you discomfort. Me, I'm almost certainly thinking about something random I just watched on Youtube, or an issue in the news, or where I can get the best broadband deal. Of course it helps to be married, but to be honest I'd be absolutely the same if I were single. The worlds too fascinating. There's too much going on. And the truth of it is that I'm such a hermit in waiting that sometimes I don't even want to be married. I want my own bachelor pad and freedom to do what I want when I want. Come and go when I please. Not have to worry about someone's else wellbeing, or what my kids are going to do when they enter adulthood. I have a selfish, entirely unattractive seam that finds that really very compelling. I don't need anyone. I don't need a person to support me emotionally or keep me entertained or fill some gap in my life. There are no gaps to fill. Now I get that all this must sound really cold and perhaps harsh, but one of the promises I made when I started blogging was that it was going to reflect me in real time. Which is to say I may have softened by tomorrow. I'm fickle like that. When I read through some of the blogs I wrote several years ago it was mainly rage and resentment of my former Christian faith. It was ugly. It was erratic. It was unkind. I don't hide from where I'm at and I've no desire to create an image of me that doesn't reflect who I am. I'm a lot of different things. It's not always fully coherent. I often make little sense. I never claimed to. Sometimes I write because it get's everything out. It's like opening a vent from my psyche. Well today it's the version of Rob that isn't playing by the rules. It's me firing off. Me amplified. The bear with the sore head version. Anyway, I've done what I always do which is completely jump off the topic that I began writing about. That's my life in microcosm. I'm done here.