Morning Rose

Coming out of the tumultuous seasons of womanhood as I entered menopause, floundered in a marital blunder, tinkered with an attempted affair, and yet somehow remained a dedicated (against my will) disciple of Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD/HSDS); there was something missing. Well, beyond the obvious sexual intercourse. Duh.
Where I thought my brain was ready to move on from the failed dalliance, turns out, I wasn't.
Although I was rapidly going up and down on the broil to boil scale amidst the random all-consuming hot flash. I can't attest if others found it hot while I flashed them, but at the time, I was more concerned about trying to ensure I didn't burst into actual, physical flames. While experiencing the joy of vaginal changes and all-out mutiny (freaking traitorous lying sack of crap my sexual organs turned out to be). And the slow, insidious droop that was my once perky little chest kittens as they morphed into belly-bound dachshunds. "Getting old is not for pussies." (Too bad I still had one, apparently.)
Somehow, though, with minimal pain and brilliantly orchestrated discovery, gentle exploration of my feelings and those of my husband, everything was perfect... and I realized: I, too, can write a sentence completely full of crap.
Because my thunderously loud, uncoordinated stumble through the brambles and briars of my relationship was nothing short of stunning. A shining example of amazingly great "good bad examples" of how not to go quietly into the night... or menopause... or experiencing the joy of living life as a couple.
Heck, we were (and still are) sleeping in separate beds in different rooms; I invited a guy to live with me - against my husband's "gentle" suggestion (one guess how well that idea turned out); I discovered communication often involves one person talking, the other not listening (Seriously! What's wrong with the idea, "If I wanted your opinion, I'd give it to you.")
Yet, somehow, through it all, we're still married. Worse yet, I've slowly changed from the 'Queen of No' into the desperate housewife of "Please just have sex with me!" (Only problem, I still don't get why, even if I can still rip off an orgasm, along with a less fortunate discovery of what else I can do while climaxing.)
There's just too much in this double-book for me to recap it all: Dreams, boobs, cheating, lack of underwear, compersion (don't know? Trust me, don't ask), family friends, house-guests from hell, Ex- sex, butt-plugs, attempted humor, Star Trek, inner discovery (much to my dismay), hating on Taylor Swift, unmasterful masturbation, old love letters, I discover my husband's 'other woman,' plus lots more... and I'm no longer a clinical definition of HSDD. Wow, how the hell did that happen?
Having problems in your own relationship? Use this as a helpful guide on what to avoid, especially subtle, easily lost in-the-translation situations (like, did you know, it's NOT a good idea to get a hotel room for you and your old boyfriend? I know! Who wouldda thunk it?) (Oh! And it's best to excuse yourself BEFORE taking off your shirt while having a hot flash... standing on the second tier with the church choir during Sunday mass. Or at least, I guess I was supposed to move off to the rectory or something. Menopause fog: I can't remember what the other suggestions were. Well, except, "Next time at least be wearing a bra, okay?")