Once upon a time I’d decided not to write about sex on my blog, but those days are over. We need to talk more about this, folks! I need to, anyway. I have a lot of different issues going on: possible perimenopause (night sweats, yay), biological clock ticking (I didn’t even know that thing was on), a different form of birth control possibly messing with my hormones, antidepressants killing my sex life, and a boyfriend who I don’t seem to be compatible with in the bedroom—though once the antidepressants wear off, we’ll know for sure.
Here’s the rabbit hole I go down when life doesn’t work out the way I want: I spiral into a predicted future that (hopefully) won’t happen, in which I’m alone forever, eventually dying alone in a nursing home, no partner, family, or friends to speak of. Which is a lie because I have plenty of loved ones today.
Here’s the fantasy I play out when things seem to be working for me: I want whatever he wants, and that will make me happy. We can have a kid and I’ll have at least two people (or at least one) to love and be loved by, until death do us part.
I know what you’re thinking, or what I’d be thinking if I were in your shoes, provided your shoes are filled by someone whose life is going how they want today: I simply need to learn to love myself and focus on what I want.
I’ll tell you what I want: I want a partner. A friend and lover. And if it’s important for him to have a child, I’d consider it—especially if I felt strongly enough about the man, and knowing what I know about how my mom felt about my sisters and me, and knowing that I’m almost 42 now, I’d strongly consider it.
Mark has all the boxes checked: funny, fun, sweet, good-looking, smart, stable, caring, responsible. He’s a good lover in that he’s a giver. But I’m a giver too. Neither of us is used to being the taker, or the recipient—ie, the selfish lover who lays there while the other person does all the work. You’d think that would be a match made in heaven, but the truth is, the fun part is when the other person is enjoying it. Most men I’ve dated have been selfish yet grateful recipients, and I thought it would be nice to have a partner who wants to reciprocate, except Mark wants to do everything and for me to be enthusiastic without doing anything in return. Most women would love that, but I just can’t. And I can’t fake it.
I’m so down about this right now y’all it makes me want to not date for a long time, maybe forever. It makes me feel like I’m a bad lover, and maybe no one really liked me in bed that much. I wonder if there’s anyone out there who I’m compatible with. Maybe I’m going through perimenopause and won’t really be interested in sex again, and/or certainly not at the level I have been in the past few years. Which wouldn’t be a tragedy if I met a guy who didn’t care about that. But maybe that person doesn’t exist.
At the same time, I hate that I’m putting this all on me. My exes expressed lots of enthusiasm for our sex life, and this is a situation I haven’t encountered before. Not everyone will like the same things, and not everyone is compatible with each other. It has nothing to do with me or him being bad or good—it just is.
Still, it’s hard not to take it personally.
The important thing is to keep faith that someone is out there for me. I believe human beings are social animals and we’re meant to partner up, and I know there’s someone out there for me. Maybe I’ll learn that it’s Mark, once the antidepressants get out of my system, or maybe I’ll learn that sometimes you meet someone who seems just right, but they’re just not, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
I pray that I stay positive, keep faith that life is unfolding for me just as it’s meant to, down a path that will be far better than I tried to plan.