No Nookie Makes Me Sad


There, I got your attention.

Back in my prime (before 2011) I enjoyed sex. The ex-husband and I were extremely sexually compatible. That was one of the main things that drew me to him to begin with. We really linked up well together.

You know, until we didn’t. Then he started linking with other women. (Yes, I did get tested for STD’s and I’m good!)

Anyway, back to the point.

It’s not easy being in the mood when your brain is telling you that life sucks and that you’d be better off dead much of the time. Thanks, depression, you son of a bitch.

It’s not easy being in the mood when you have chronic pain and make “ow” sounds each time you move your body the wrong way. Or the right way. My hips don’t extend that far anymore! Thanks fibromyalgia, you piece of twisted shit.

It’s also not great to feel that old-school Catholic guilt cropping up since I’ve rejoined the ranks of being a Christian after years of being an agnostic. My mom’s death cemented my renewed faith. It’s been more of an issue since I’ve been dating my boyfriend, which just hit the 3 year mark on June 3rd.

It’s awkward, painful and frustrating. Um, not the anniversary. The sex.

I have to give him credit, though. He doesn’t push me. He’s a gentleman. I mean, I think that I have a dirtier mind than he does. Seriously.

We’ve discussed this problem so many times. I’ve tried everything that I could think of to loosen myself up. Take an extra pain pill. Smoke some weed. Repeat to myself, he isn’t going to hurt me like my first ex or be a major pervert like asshat, the ex-husband. The only thing that I haven’t tried yet is getting drunk, since I don’t drink due to most of my prescription bottles saying that I shouldn’t.

Well, shit.

So much for using that new chainsaw.

Also, hangovers are evil now that I’m not a spring chick. I have a few drinkies and then bam! Sick for days, I tell you.

Maybe I’ll try a bottle of wine. It’s the newest trend, all middle aged women drink wine, right? It’s just fruit, after all. I like fruit, it’s healthy and shit.

The truth is, I have many sexual hangups. Where once I felt comfortable with my sexuality, now I don’t feel comfortable even thinking about my own vagina. It gave birth to a baby ages ago.

Pretty neat, vagina!

But now it seems to have become a separate part of my body, its own entity. I know that it’s there but damn if it feels much of anything anymore. The most handsome man alive could walk into my house and I’d be like, meh. Nothing.

I’m sure going through menopause doesn’t help matters. I skip a month, then I’ll have two periods back to back. A normal month, then skip.

You get the idea.

I think I’ll bring it up to my therapist next time. I’m comfortable enough with her to discuss my disinterest (and fear) of being intimate with someone again.

I’ve lost that horny feeling. It’s gone, gone, gone.


My apologies to The Righteous Brothers.


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