One thing my partner and I have in common is our doubts about our looks. She verbalizes more insecurity than I do. I’m attracted to her, though, and I tell her and show her often. Maybe I’m sad if she doesn’t reciprocate because she can’t honestly. Maybe I’m angry if she could, but doesn’t see the need.

I do love her, and I believe she loves me. I think, like a lot of men, I make too linear a connection between love and sex. And probably between sex and physical attraction. So then there’s a linear connection, in my mind anyway, between love and physical attraction. Like she doesn’t really love me if she’s not physically attracted to me. And if I doubt her attraction, I doubt her love. I hadn’t really put that together until just now.

And regarding my looks, I’m not repulsive looking. Few people are, and those who are almost always could make immediate changes that would help. I’m in that vast middle area under the bell curve, if such a thing exists for beauty. I’m not noticed.  At 62 I don’t hope that random women will notice me, but I went mostly unnoticed at 18 or 25 or 30. I think when I say I’m insecure about my looks, what I mean is that I feel invisible, and I so want to be seen. And maybe if the woman who loves me doesn’t see me anymore, or perhaps never did see me as I hoped to be seen, then I have to let go of the hope that anyone ever will. And I don’t believe that words spring from my mind accidentally. When I write “seen” I suspect I mean the word more broadly than as it pertains to seeing or attractiveness. Being noticed too. Important? Worthy? Real?

This is cathartic, in a really miserable fucking way.