I think I'm having a mid-life SEX crisis! I'm forty-two years old, divorced and haven't had anything other than a self-induced orgasm in four years. I can't believe it myself! Never in a million, gazillion years would I have predicted this! How is this my life? Granted, Post Marital Stress Disorder (PMSD) is partially to blame. It rendered me sexually apathetic for awhile and suspect of anyone attempting to make friendly eye contact, let alone flirt or get busy. But things have changed. I've changed. And in my best karaoke version of India.Arie, "I Am Ready For Love". Only thing is, I'm way out of practice in the art of flirting and dating. Like, way out of practice! And I can't seem to figure out what I'm doing wrong. But I'm slowly starting to figure out that there just might be a thin line between "selective" and "settling". Perhaps I'm putting too much emphasis on the importance of chemistry, looks, kindness, humor, plus emotional and financial stability. Am I being overly cautious with my heart? Or maybe I'm emotionally stuck in my nineties dating experience when my raging hormones were equally matched with opportunity. But I was also in my twenties back then; uninhibited by the wisdom and clarity that comes with age, life experience and divorce. It was also before I rocked my wild and natural curls in lieu of a Pantene commercial-worthy blowout. Before liberating my face from the mask of make-up and going au natural except for the mandatory mascara and lip gloss. And before discovering the joy of comfortable shoes rather than suffering silently from the pain of heels in a city that walks not drives. But maybe this pared down, honest version of myself is less appealing to the opposite sex and the reason why, at forty-two, I'm finally comfortable in my own skin but single and horny as hell. I'm kinda wondering how to reclaim just a piece of my former self; that naive little tart that tipped through the concrete jungle as a fashion statement with a face artfully designed by MAC and three inch heels. That self who readily made eye contact, flirted freely and allowed herself to be flattered by compliments; even the sexually overt ones from totally random strangers. If I could just have a piece of that girl again and her sense of pre-betrayal openness, maybe sex would be more than just a hazy memory.
My friends think I should just "get it over with" and do it with any old body willing to participate. I, on the other hand, have decided to honor the punany and my spirit and hold out for someone I feel worthy; kinda like I should've done before losing my virginity doggy style at age sixteen. At this point in my life I don't wanna have sex just for the sake of having sex. I want the physical plus emotional intimacy that makes that shit orgasmic! So I find myself ruminating endlessly over how to approach this new millennium dating scene as a grounded, confident, spiritually conscious woman with more mature needs and expectations. I'm trying to figure out what might signal my availability without hinting of my inner-desperation. And how to make forty-two seem sexy and desirable without screaming "Help, I'm dying to get my groove back!". Because as much as I wanna swing from the chandeliers, I'm craving far more than that. But here's the thing: if I want the total package - sex plus substance - should I simply accept the fact that as a middle-aged woman with baggage I'm far less appealing to most men and therefore have no choice but to settle? Maybe it's time to get real, suck it up and make peace with the fact that receding hairlines and man boobs are my destiny and that my resurrected sex life will involve creative ways of incorporating Viagra into foreplay.
