Menopausal Sex in the City

Because I had a really big week which included getting laid off and, er, getting... (I want to say it.)

I can't say it. You say it.

I can say that it's a slippery slope, Ladies and Gentleman, from Middle-Aged-Born-Again-Virgin to...Menopausal Hussy. It was a monumental event for me. It deserves special attention.

The details are gory. This is no place for the squeamish. Run. It's your last chance.

After 3 months of dating, and a devastating introduction to unemployment. I was weak. I was pressured. The fight had gone out of me.

I had already decided to kick Surfer Dude to the curb because of some weird things he'd done:

1. Refusing to take me to my favorite restaurant.
2. Turning every conversation into "how it was about him"
3. Bringing me flowers only twice.
4. Clearing out a drawer in his dresser for...who knows what? How presumptuous!

I was in the process of packing up my things and storming out the door (I was at his house). It was late, he grabbed me and in so doing, threw out his back and fell to the floor. This made me laugh.

I laugh at other peoples' pain.

Then I decided...what the heck. I'll just leave in the morning. I'd stayed over before and had avoided "it" like the plague. I had a plethora of excuses, 3 months worth. (Who am I kidding, I had excuses sufficient to last years.) Then it dawned on me. I wonder if I CAN do it? Maybe some anatomical transformation has occurred and...OMG, maybe I've become a... mutant!

Did I mention that I majored in Biology? So um...the mutant crack is, uh...a lie.

Surfer Dude said, "When are you going to jump in the deep end of the pool, Charmaine"

I've heard more romantic phrases. I guess a swimming pool reference was what I was waiting for.

Surfer Dude is, shall we say, a small man. He is not tall. He has small feet. Um, he drives an SUV. You get the picture. But I liked that about him. It was less scarey.

Things were going along fine, after we got past the whole "What the hell is that? Is that a panty liner? "Yes. Um no, not really, it's just my hormone patch" . It was the first time I had said this out loud. Then he said, "I can do this for hours".

"Ahhhh" I screamed. "You'd better NOT". Then I gave him a biology lesson right there on the spot. Yes, I did. I said, "The act (I used the biological definition) is not how most women achieve ...bla bla bla.

I'm sexy like that.

Then he said, "I'm very good at this. The bedroom is my Laboratory (he's a scientist/chemist). But...I mean really?? It was too much. I laughed out loud and aborted the experiment being conducted in Surfer Dudes "love lab".

He's coming over tomorrow to paint my bedroom.

Not the most romantic re-introduction to "it" and not what I would consider the foundation for a long and successful marriage but....

It's all I've got.

Oh and...I'm not a mutant.

Favorite thing Surfer Dude said to me today:

"Tard, please don't forget to do your workout today so that we can continue to add girth and muscle mass to your legs." (He thinks he's my trainer)

Favorite thing Surfer Dude said to me yesterday:

"That apple pie you made is the best freaking thing I have ever eaten in my life". Given the topic of this post and the fact that some of you are vulgar vulgar people....(you know I love ya) I must clarify that I did indeed make the worlds best apple pie. I'm gonna post the recipe with a special shout out to Briana and Amanda to please make it. Do it for the children.