Sex. Sex. And mo' Sex.

They say men think about sex about a million times a day. So what. You will think about sex about a million times a minute.

And not 'caress my face before deflowering me' women made for women movies of the week. Just straight up 'start this ride there's nothing to it say my name say my name' sex. You will become that prepubescent pimpled boy. Without the bathroom time or the Playboy magazine.

As a major sex supporter, my desires went from comfortable to ridiculous pretty instantly. I could not look any man in his face without itching to survey his nether regions. Help me jaysus. And then the physical review: How big were his hands? The size of his feet (and yes, nine times out of ten it's true). Shoulder width? (Good for climbing). Oh God. What was happening to me?

At first, red faced, stuttering shame. I was mature on the outside but a raging hormonal booty call on the inside. The sense of urgency is palpable. Almost controls you instead of you controlling it. By the time you say "Hello", I am standing there naked. Liberating? Hell yeah. Embarrassing? Only when it happens in public.

Every little thing will set you off. Every little thing sets me off. A breeze. A purring car engine at a stoplight. The smell of a musky cologne. A shoe sale. Handing the male bus driver my metro card. Whatever. Whenever. I exist in a perpetual state of 'blush' all the time.

Mother Nature, in all of her infinite wisdom, made women over fourty possess the libido of a zippy college boy. Made men over fourty have the libido of a eighty five year old man. With a broken hip. And a cane. Sucks. Especially since we have 'arrived'. Are 'seasoned'. Know exactly how to instruct and how to be instructed. Wink.

I do get concerned - sometimes. How much can my private oasis withstand? Have I really lost my freaking mind? Am I a sex addict?  My boyfriend, who is  eight years younger than me, wonders out loud what the hell he has gotten himself into. Ever seen a grown man cry? I mean really cry? Most of the time he stares at me in stunned disbelief. Oh no, AGAIN? Ah...yes. Please.

So what. If this is the worst that this decade has to offer, then bravo. Revel in it. Try to hold your head up (avoiding the nether regions). Put your embarrassment on ice. Experience this gift to its fullest whether that is in or out of bed.

Who are we kidding. Preferably in.

xoxo,

Fabulously Fourty(ish)