After my experience with the doctor in the menopause clinic
who wanted to pump me full of drugs, I am still reflecting on my apparent loss
of libido. According to the doctor this "lack of chemicals."
It is strange to think something like that can have happened
without my knowing – it’s like the theft of something I hardly used, still a
shock when you realise it’s gone. You look at the space where it used to be and
wonder about it, but it doesn’t mean a great deal and you vaguely hope you
might just have mislaid it somewhere.
I toy with myself by thinking of things that used to excite
me. There is a moment of anticipation – then nothing. Like pressing a button or
flicking a switch, expecting a power surge which doesn’t happen.
I now look at people in a very detached way, and observe
beauty very coolly, easily, without any
envy. That has died too and I’m glad to lose it.
One trial of getting older is that many people you know, old
and middle aged, die off. But this also
includes the people who remember your most embarrassing failures.
The Daily Telegraph has a whole Saturday spread on what they
call “predatory” women, single women thy call “lone wolves,” and married women
who try to snatch innocent husbands.
It was very like a Daily Mail piece with reckless
chariacature and deep mysogeny. Perhaps
if us “lone wolves” were invited out to
dinner by married couples more often we wouldn’t be so desperate. There is of
course another syndrome they ignore the married
ladies who think that if you talk to their husband for more than a minute you
are “after” him. That is often horribly insulting.
There are a lot of single people 'out there'. They don't need chemicals - just to meet someone nice.
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