Sarah understood something most people don't. When she put her hand on my cheek last week, it wasn't just about sex. It was about contact. Human warmth. Something I've missed since Margaret left three years ago.
I'm not delusional. I know our time together is transactional. But Christ, there's something profound in those moments of intimacy that have nothing to do with physical mechanics. The way she listens. How her fingers trace idle patterns on my back. How she'll make tea afterwards and we'll talk about nothing and everything.
Divorce leaves these hollow spaces. You forget how it feels to be truly seen. Not judged. Not pitied. Just... present with another human who chooses to be kind to you in that moment.
I'm not looking for a replacement wife. I'm looking for something gentler. Softer. A bridge between total loneliness and genuine connection. Sarah provides that. For a few hours, I'm not just another aging man feeling invisible. I'm someone who matters.
Complicated, isn't it? But aren't all human needs complicated.