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Extracting meaning from the mundane. Find me at www.morningcoffeeher.com

Is your lack of communication limiting your sexual fulfilment?

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

I recall sex being a difficult subject to talk about with my parents. Yes, I was a teenage boy who simply didn’t want to discuss it. It was weird. But I got the sense they didn’t want me to be having sex in the first place, so asking questions about the mechanics and safety and intimacy and excitement of something that was considered off-limits felt like a pretty challenging thing to do.

I also struggled with porn addiction throughout my teen years (and twenties) and so our biannual conversations about my search history lent an especially solemn glow to my…


When you realize you’re better apart.

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I was in the shower this morning when I heard Breakups by Seaforth.

It hit me like an arrow through the heart.

Back in December my 3-year on-and-off relationship finally came to a painful end. It was the catalyst for a tremendous amount of reflection and self-growth. It also hurt like hell.

Sometimes emotional experiences take on a physical manifestation. In my case I recall the night it ended, and the literal feeling of physical pain in my chest. I believe hearts can actually break, and though they continue to pump blood, they seem to shatter like glass.

In that…


A testament to good communication.

Photo by Andriyko Podilnyk on Unsplash

When we split, we still cared deeply for each other. This is part of why it took us two years to begin the legal process. We didn’t need it in the beginning, and so we didn’t pursue it. Looking back, I wish we would have.

So there we were, skipping along all hunky-dory for a few years, handling separated life like a couple of champions. We were great — the exception to the rule. And then we weren’t. We crashed and burned in failed attempts to clarify the end of our spousal support term.

So she lawyered up and I…


The hardest part about the end of my marriage

Photo by Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash

A guy meets a girl. He gets her name, then her number.

Over time, they grow closer, the rest of the world melting into meaninglessness in the background, until, one day, there they are on the center stage, against all odds, hand in hand at the altar.

What follows are years upon years of hard work and satisfying love. Babies are born, hearts filled to brimming, and the middle years come with the sweet surrender of comfort and support.

When the world rages around them, they smile and laugh and hold each other tight.

Until one day, when they’re old…


Because life doesn’t start again until you actually move on.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

I’ve spent the last three years of my life half-preoccupied by an obsession with a particular woman. We’ve danced in and out of a relationship for the duration of those years, but decided once and for all to put an end to our addicting misery a few months back.

We’ve been here before, I thought. We break up. We continue in friendship. We collide. Mouths, bodies naughty bits entangle once again in a fit of shortsighted passion. We end up back together. This woman and I have some inexplicable chemistry that perplexes us both. We are also painfully dysfunctional as…


What I learned from not talking to my love interest.

Photo by Eddy Billard on Unsplash

I’m a writer. The written word is one of my favorite vehicles by which to transmit meaning.

I enjoy writing letters. Sometimes my emails are too long. I take pride in the eloquent verbosity with which I can illustrate the world, whether in professional or personal contexts.

And so imagine my surprise when I end up dating a woman who, by her own proclamation, is “terrible at responding to messages.”

I will admit, I went into our first date with some reservation because of this. I knew hardly anything about her — we hadn’t exchanged the customary litany of ‘get-to-know-you’…


It was harder to move on from the loss of my love.

Photo by Nick Herasimenka on Unsplash

It was a beautiful winter day, dry and warm. The Colorado sun shone through a cloudless sky and the birds chirped deceptive tunes amidst the December backdrop.

Out front, a crew of arborists was trimming some of the ancient trees. I remember I had to walk around their cordoned-off area to get back to my side door where I’d set up the table saw.

I was working on Christmas presents; picture frames. I’d selected the most beautiful red leopard wood and birds’ eye maple, and I was just getting into the groove. …


On grieving the loss of what could have been.

Photo by Timothy Dykes on Unsplash

None among us will escape the inevitable death of something beautiful.

Loss is as much a part of life as living itself. It is the fleeting nature of all that brings us to ecstasy that inspires the most reverent appreciation. But if you try to tell that to a bleeding heart, it will only wince and clutch its wounds all the tighter.

For the aching, there is no salvation in silver linings.

And when our lover departs and we are left standing in the wreckage of all our hopes and dreams, dashed to bits by the merciless tides of fate, we grieve.

In the realm of romance, living beyond the loss…


It just happened to come wrapped in a broken heart.

Photo by Mara Ket on Unsplash

Three years ago the Universe decided to show me that she can be good to us.

I awoke on the morning of my first Valentine’s day as a single father. My first Valentine’s day as a single person in over 6 years. In so many ways I was relieved. I got my kids out of bed, prepared them for the day, dropped off with their mother, and went about my day.

That night I had planned to join in an Irish music session held at a local pub. I’ve been…


The dysfunctional mentality that has ended all of my relationships.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I remember chasing Jackie around the playground at seven years old. I was crazy about her.

I remember when my fourth-grade girlfriend dumped me for another boy on valentine’s day.

I remember the relief I felt when my now-ex-wife said YES to my wedding proposal.

And I can still taste the crushing, metallic bitterness of divorce.

But three years past the end of what I believed to be the “Love of My Life” I’m finally figuring out a fatal flaw in the way I’ve perceived relationships.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve considered marriage the holy grail of…

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