On the Rose Again

A lack of TMI (Too Much Information), HSDD/HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder / Syndrome), and a menopausal woman walk into a bar...
Thus, with a mild concussion, I freely ask you: what does learning how to m********e after the age of 50, having sex with a gang of young men on a public picnic table, and a horse penis have in common? (Well, other than they make an entire noisy waiting room full of people suddenly get really freaking quiet.)
They are all topics I discuss in a few of the dozen-and-a-half short stories in this latest compendium of my misfortune, both real and imagined. And really wish I imagined more of it instead of actually doing it. (But don't take my word for it. Like all of my books, I include the sordid truth behind each and every illustrious face-plant in the "Truth and Consequences" section in the back of the book.)
Only it appears I wasn't smart enough to stop there glancing down the table of contents after trying to mercifully forget what I wrote about (so I can feign ignorance when people ask, "Holy cripes! You freaking describe your little lady bit down there!" (Then, oddly enough, an inordinate number of people nervously glance all about before continuing in a hushed voice, "... is that, you know, what I look like, too? I mean, I've never actually seen my own..." It's so nice when people realize they've been a little harsh to me, so they then discretely ask for more information so I won't feel self-conscious. Then we talk about all sorts of things. And on a good day, I even remember to just tell them about it and not add, "... you wanna see?" - Which is a _very_ scary sentence-ender for someone that doesn't wear a bra (and fears black panties showing through pretty, white skirts more than going commando on occasion); because way too many things are easily accessible.)
Sorry - that's not at all where this description was supposed to go. I'm supposed to tell you this book is jam-packed with my complete recovery after whatever the hell happened to me to bring about Morning Rose (even if some of these stories, tales, and unfortunately real-life occurrences happened while writing said book.)
Which means, like it or not, the Rose that previously bloomed way-too-often with far-too-much-information in the not-so-distant past, is back on her game... and often times on her back... and splayed out on a picnic table... and...
It's time to get back On the Rose Again.