I'm sitting here, watching the streetlights hit my living room window, and I'm just… tired. Not like physically tired, though God knows I am that too, but like soul-tired, I guess. It’s always been this way, and I don't know why it feels so HEAVY tonight. Like, I’m in my late fifties now, right? I should have figured this out. But I just keep seeing all these younger people, these kids at the university, my god, they’re so full of life, and I look at them and I think, "You still have time to fix it." I mean, I don't even—whatever. I was at this faculty mixer last week, one of those awkward things where everyone tries to pretend they’re not sizing each other up, and I was talking to this brilliant young woman, a post-doc in physics, and we were just RIPPING through ideas about quantum entanglement and I felt so alive, like genuinely stimulated, you know? She was witty, sharp, challenged me in all the best ways. And I remember thinking, "This is it. This is what I love." We talked for hours, just her and me, completely ignoring the awful music and the lukewarm white wine. But then, the conversation shifted, like it always does. Someone mentioned dating apps, and suddenly everyone was talking about who was cute, who was hitting on who, and I just… shut down. It's like a switch flips. All that mental energy, that spark, just fizzles out. I look around and everyone else is getting flirty, making eyes, whatever, and I just feel this complete blankness. I mean, I *see* that people are attractive, sure, like intellectually I can register it, but there's no… tug. No wanting. Nothing. It's just a face, a body. And it’s been like that forever. My whole life. My friends, my colleagues, they’ll talk about crushes, about going home with someone, about feeling a connection and wanting to tear their clothes off. And I just nod along, trying to look engaged, but inside I’m just… empty. Like, I enjoy them as people, their conversation, their humor, their insights. I love good company, real good company, the kind where you lose track of time. But that other thing? The physical stuff? It’s just not there. Never has been, not really. I've had relationships, sure, because that's what you're supposed to do, right? You go through the motions. But it always felt like a performance. Like I was just trying to fit in, trying to *be* what everyone else was. And now I'm nearing retirement, looking back at all the missed opportunities for... well, for what exactly? For that kind of connection everyone else talks about? The one I never felt? It makes you wonder if you missed out on something fundamental, something human. Like I'm a broken circuit. And it’s not sadness, not really, more like a dull ache. A quiet wondering. What was I supposed to feel? And why didn't I? I’m here in this city, surrounded by millions of people, but I feel like I'm watching a movie of life, not actually living it in the same way everyone else seems to be. And I don’t know what to do with that. Or if there’s even anything to do.