It made its presence known in a creeping fashion. A brief moment here, a waking dream there. Daytime thoughts of times gone past during a noon conference call. I sensed that it might be on the horizon, it being Spring and all, but I didn’t want to scare it away.. its been a cold winter and it might be easily frightened. And its been a long dry winter. The sun? No, my sex drive.
As with any woman, of any age, my sex drive is prone to take vacations. Who knows why it decides it needs a time out, or where it goes when its off (Winter is beautiful in Kauai), but it always pops up again, roaring for attention and gangbusters energetic (Maybe it did winter in Kauai?). Of course I’m single, working 13-14 hours a day at the moment and resemble a sack of potatos.. but hey, its good to know its back, just in case.
Unlike guys, our sex drive is extremely fickle. Notice I said fickle, not lacking. An un-emptied dishwasher, a throwaway comment about a female coworker and it’s packing its bags and heading for the door. Like guys, we have no control over it. Believe us, we know that the best way to smooth things over, blow off some stream, have ‘no jacket required’ fun is sex… but our sex drive has other ideas. It seems to resemble those high maintenance Neiman’s princesses you see wandering around the mall with 3 inch nails and 6 inch heels. It whines when it doesn’t get what it wants and redefines the word demanding. Plus it takes sudden vacations with no defined end date. Usually prompted by work stress, financial problems or a swiftly exiting boyfriend, the sex drive vacation is always unannounced. I only know its back when I wake up thinking inappropriate thoughts about Fabian Cancellara and its shouting at me. Thankfully mine only seems to vacation in month long blocks. I’ve heard that for some it can be years.
But when it’s back, like that Neiman’s princess, it will not be ignored.
On the plus side, even with the extended vacations and aging, my drive just gets stronger. Which is alarming because I can still remember the frenzy of my late teens and twenties. And we won’t mention my 21, when I finally realized that the removal of all that fleece might render me a little more attractive to the male specifies and finally, finally, got asked out by a cute guy.
Unlike guys, our sex drive starts bodybuilding in our mid 30s and at 41, now seems to training for Ms. Olympia. At this rate, by the time I’m 70 I may need to move to North Dakota for my own safety. Which is where the cruel hand of reality twists its handle. As we become less attractive – grey hair, sagging bits, less energy – our bodies heat up on overdrive and frankly, it just more and more intense. Our options close in and if you’re not already partnered, its hellish. Like a teenager trying to get to second base, we’re horny and we don’t know what to do with it. As I mentioned to a girlfriend this weekend, ‘I think I know how a 19 yr old guy feels’. How did any of them make it through high school?
Untethered by expectations, with my body on the down-slide towards infirmity, my sex drive is donning crampons and heading up hill armed with all manner of kinky thoughts and plans for the future. Now if only I had a dude to carry the backpack.
In the meantime I’m taking ‘the return’ as a sign that my Neimans princess is back and probably wants new clothes. Demanding bitch.