where the hell is my sex drive. what do other women take to be so ever-ready and frisky. why can’t i too just, with total and utter abandonment, give in with quivering lips and dewy eyes throwing my legs up high to a lover, even if it’s just for a night. someone told me “rather a bit of magic than none at all”. but no, not this little mamma. there is always a small but seemingly (only to me increasingly it feels) important thing. love. no juices flow without love. it’s like somebody put a cork on the bottle and nothing foams. am i going to remain a corked bottle for the rest of my life? slowly that thought is starting to rebound in my mind. the offers and the interested that come are frequent but so young, i feel like they want to sell me a retirement policy when they invite me for coffee. the cutest offer came recently. i young man in a wheel-chair who followed me a couple of roads, i could not outrun a wheel-chair and he was ever so cute but, oh so young. at a stop street he sweetly asked me if i’d like to join him for coffee. visions of me sitting on his lap on the wheelchair flashed through my mind. his bravado was very sexy and his eyes were so beautiful and blue. i would have said yes but i have learned that going for coffee is the start of something (mostly all my troubles have started over an invitation for coffee) and if i do not want that something to start, i simply don’t go.
he is out there. i know it and i feel it. but it’s not yet time for me. the most beautiful thing has been to find that my heart is unbroken. it’s happy, content, curious, excited, adventurous. alive.