The Hell of Solitude.

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I didn't know it, didn't realize, was unaware that perhaps the majority of my stories include the protagonist being romanced by a strong, commanding man who is handsome, strong, and regal beyond all reasonability. In the reality of my own life, I am often frightened of men I encounter to the point of paralysis. Once in a while, a man will be gentle and shepherd like with me, and a flip occurs. I am left completely stricken with the need to be obedient and held affectionately, not allowed to flee in terror. Those encounters are in my dreams and upon awakening, bereft sadness floods over me. In the last years, my pillow stays dry. I know that no one will come to rescue me from this bleak oubliette, probably of my own making.

There was one once, but he passed, leaving my heart completely crushed.

I cared for a needy woman for 39 years, and in the end I was sucked dry, with nothing left, and abandoned like the trash.

I long for a strong man to come into my life and to hold me in his arms, but that too is perhaps a fantasy that will never be fulfilled in this life.

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