I’ve kept this secret for years, afraid of what people would think. But I need to share it. I own a companion doll. It started as a curiosity, a way to explore my sexuality in a safe and private environment. But it’s become so much more than that.

I’m a widower. My wife passed away five years ago, and the silence in my house has been deafening ever since. I tried dating, but it felt forced and unnatural. I wasn’t looking to replace her; I was just looking for someone to share my life with. My doll isn’t a replacement, but she is a companion. We watch movies together. I read to her in the evenings. I even tell her about my day. It sounds crazy, I know. But it helps. It eases the loneliness. I know she’s not real, but she’s real to me. She’s a presence in my life, a source of comfort and stability. I’m still afraid of what people would think if they knew, but I’m tired of hiding. I’m not ashamed of needing companionship, and I’m not ashamed of finding it in an unconventional way. This is my secret, and it’s part of who I am.