On the whole, our author has nothing against getting older. There's only one thing: we need to talk about sex.
"Do you have any questions?" Asked my gynecologist when I was sitting in her meeting room after checking in. "Uh … no … or is it?" I pushed around like a 15-year-old who wants the pill. "What do you do about sexual listlessness?" My gynecologist is in her 50s with a family. So she should know the subject. "Well," she said. "Unfortunately, this is a common problem during menopause, it is the hormonal change to blame. But something can be done about it!" I hung on her lips. "Take your time," she said and smiled. "No struggling after work, but extensive body contact without looking at the clock. Then the pleasure comes again." I thanked them politely and left. Somehow I was disappointed. I would have trusted her more, after all she's somehow sitting at the … well, source.
"Can you actually grow over there down there?"
Sex is a nice but bitchy business. He never adapts to life. When you debut, you have a lot of desire, but you are always afraid of accidentally getting pregnant. If at some point you can no longer get pregnant, the desire will also dwindle. In between: a lot of trouble because you always want to have sex with those who are not good for you and who no longer find those who stay with you desirable.
"Can you actually grow over there down there?" Asked a friend recently, who has been in a relationship for many years. I thought for a while and said, "At least I don't think it's out of the question."
The usual solution attempts are not very helpful either. No, it doesn't get me going if I light candles, buy sexy lingerie or take a bath with my partner. Maybe I'm hopelessly uptight, but I don't want to be chained to a pillory or hire a loverboy in Jamaica. And what should those who do not have a partner do first? Can you really ask a Tinder date to take plenty of time for tenderness on the first night while panting at a snail's pace for arousal? Because lust-death hits not only those who live in a relationship, but also those who are looking for it.
"We WERE complicated!"
"Man, you are complicated," said my friend Malwine's 22-year-old daughter. She came into the kitchen to make Nutella breads for herself and her best friend when we debated the tiresome subject over wine. "Just buy a 'Satisfyer' or make Friendship Plus!" Then she disappeared into her room, where she would first eat Nutella bread and then probably have Friendship Plus. "Arrogant greens", Malwine scolded while I thought: How enviable pragmatic! Because wasn't she right? We WERE complicated! Why did we absolutely want everything: big feelings in the heart AND in the abdomen and both if possible for eternity? Intimate security and eternal mystery, in other words: a lot of Hollywood and a bit of Recklinghausen?
I went home knowing what I was going to do. 1st: order a Satisfyer. And 2nd: enjoy what I have – to be able to cuddle up to someone whom I trust to smell and touch warm skin. Actually very satisfying.
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