I almost didn’t blog today. My self-imposed deadline for completing grammar and dead-link checks on the Series Bible is today–and the spouse has plans for me, we’re venturing out to buy chairs for the great room.
The past coming back to haunt me is how I would define Facebook.
Facebook is like returning to the old neighborhood and running into all the people you used to know. In the past two years though, I’ve been tagged by people I went to high school with, old friends from basic training, yeoman school, and deployment, and denizens from my post-military days in NYC when my life was chaotic but free.
My brain isn’t quite kosher, so when I come across someone I’ve balled, my mind instantly takes me back to that erotic moment. It doesn’t matter if we’ve breached mines in Kuwait, or if we went clubbing back when it was at its most excellent (early 90’s). It doesn’t matter if we experienced life altering shit like watching a friend die because no one bothered to come up with a cure for a disease until it started killing people that mattered.
My recollection of past associations always centers on the sex.
I’ve had some great sex over the years with some amazing and not-so-amazing people. Singular, plural, group, you name it, I’ve done it. The late 80’s and early 90’s were great, but my brain focusing solely on those experiences is strange because for the longest time I wasn’t a sexual person.
I went from being Empress Tina of Orgystan to Saint Tina of Anderson.
I lost my desire for sex after birthing my children, and that was frightening. Sex was essential to my lifecycle for years, and then suddenly I just didn’t want it anymore. I went through the normal phase of lost desire, resentment of needing to do it even if not in the mood, and put up emotional obstacles in the form of feminist-strawman arguments as to why performing fellatio or anal demeaned me. My spouse respected this, and my marriage endured the dry spell – fifteen plus years. I wasn’t alone in this, millions of women go through the same shit I did, and many of their marriages fail, but I got lucky–somewhat.
My libido returned about two years ago, like a tsunami over the Sahara.
Nature’s an asshole, and I say this with pure venom, but I cannot deny that marriage and monogamy complicate nature’s way of keeping humanity sexually satisfied.
The spouse is 50-ish, and I’m 45. While I resurge, he declines. I understand why Cialis (and Viagra) have altered their commercials to appeal to older men and their aging wives–because that’s the market that fucking needs male enhancement. It’s not his fault if he’s out practice because most women endure a phase of latency; it’s nature’s fault for sucking the testosterone out of him while giving us a jolt of the horn.
Sexual incompatibility with age doesn’t shock me, and it’s not a product of modern civilization. I truly believe that when we were in caves elder women lost interest in their male counterparts and it freed them both up to play around with younger members of the cave. The mindset of “old man and the young woman,” and the proliferation of MILF porn featuring dudes that don’t look old enough to own anything other than a gym membership, speaks volumes.
To put it in crude terms, younger women require less in-and-out and more dexterous stimulation; it’s okay if the old man’s junk isn’t hard because he’s got skills that will bring an orgasm every time (and if he doesn’t, dump his ass!). Older women (particularly those on hormones allowing for proper lubrication and dilation) can easily satisfy themselves with their hands–so when there’s a penis involved it better be hard, and capable of multiple performances. Vagina’s mature in different ways so your mileage may vary.
You can’t dabble in the younger members of the cave anymore because you must be faithful to your marriage, even if your kids are grown and out of the house. Love in the era of civilized humanity is more than just emotional attachment; you must be sexually exclusive, or it all falls apart. I feel this is bullshit, but I get it. I love my spouse, I couldn’t imagine life without him, but there are times when I’d like to fool around or bring someone else into the relationship. He’s wired differently; he’s not into groups, and he’s the sort that needs love in place before sex comes into the picture.
I’ve been civilized, and nature is laughing at me.