Have you lost interest in sex?
Sara looked annoyed when we met early for a hike yesterday morning.
“What’s with you Ms. Sour Pus? I believe I’m the one who got out of bed that had a lovely naked man in it so we can hike.”
“The month’s almost over …”
“I know! Where does the time go? It’s, like, almost summer.”
“… and I barely hit my quota.”
“Quota? At work? What are you talking about, girlfriend?”
“I know that, but I didn’t realize we had to jack off a certain amount before the month ends.”
“You don’t; I do.” 
“You’re not making sense.”
“I made a promise to myself that I’d masturbate at least four times a week this month because, well, because I just haven’t been feeling it lately.”
“Uh, what exactly aren’t you feeling?”
“Sexual. I’m just not that interested in sex anymore, and it’s freaking me out.”
Yeah, I’d be freaked out, too! No interest in sex, especially if you’re not married — not that being married should make you less horny but familiarity after 10, 15, 20 years does tend to put a damper on things. But for a single woman — an actively dating single woman — to lose her sex drive? What’s that about?
I’m sure men lose their sex drive, too, from time to time, although there appears to be a rash of men who are masturbating too much (which in a way could be good because it takes the pressure off of all those women like Sara who might need some sexual readjustment time). Still, a lot of women lose interest in sex for good around menopause, in part because our hormones change and it’s like fighting biology.
Of course feeling sexual isn’t just about wanting to have sex — it’s fantasizing and thinking sexually even if you don’t intend to act on it. And, for women, desire is so intertwined with intimacy — something single people don’t always have.
But to totally lose interest in sex — the best free entertainment/stress-reliever/intimacy-builder around — is scary!
- Have you ever lost your sex drive?
- How’d you get your sexual mojo back?
- Or, have you given up on sex?
Photo © painless – Fotolia.com
Should you read someone’s email or texts?
A cute 30ish couple in the early stages of romance were sitting next to Sean and me at the sushi bar last weekend. As their appetizer plates were being cleared away, the guy excused himself to go to the bathroom.
And then his cell phone — in the pocket of his jacket — started ringing. I could see the woman tense up, and I knew exactly what was going through her mind — who the heck’s calling him at 8:30 on a Saturday night?
She didn’t say anything to him when he came back, but she didn’t have to; the voicemail beeps were enough to alert for him that someone had called. He took the phone out of his pocket, glanced at the missed call number, and placed it back in his pocket without missing a beat. She smiled, a tense smile, the whole time. 
It took less than a few minutes, but I could tell it planted the seed of something that will last a lot longer — relationship insecurity. Haven’t we all been there? Our sweetie gets a call or a text at an unusual hour and our mind starts wandering.
Or perhaps we do more than wander; we look.
Is it ever OK to look at your partner’s cellphone texts or computer emails? Is it ever OK to listen to your partner’s voicemails?
Without permission, of course.
People do it all the time — that’s how Elin caught Tiger and it’s how thousands of other couples did, too. And, that’s how I caught a former boyfriend, and it’s not something I’m particularly proud of.
What makes someone look at or listen to someone else’s private stuff? Curiosity, no doubt, which, according to the old saying “killed the cat.” Yeah, well, looking didn’t kill me, but it did kill the relationship. He didn’t dump me for looking — although that probably was in his right. In any event, he wasn’t too happy about it. But, by looking I suddenly knew too much, although, hey, it was certainly stuff I needed to know — he was cheating on me!
So I dumped him.
Do the ends justify the means?
Didn’t I become just as deceitful as he was by poking around where I had no right to poke?
Why did I look? Probably because I already knew on a subconscious level that something was wrong between us, as most of us do who look or listen. If you look, something — like trust — is missing or something — like insecurities — is present in your relationship. Maybe both.
I swore I’d never do that again because it revealed an ugly side of me that I just didn’t like. I didn’t want to be that person. And, I have kept my word to myself. But that doesn’t mean that my heart hasn’t skipped a beat when Sean’s phone rings at a weird time. Although I’d feel totally OK asking, “who’s that?” But I often don’t. Because I trust. And if somehow, some way I shouldn’t trust anymore, I feel pretty confident it will eventually be revealed without me having to go looking for it.
- Is it ever OK to look at someone else’s text messages or emails, or listen to someone else’s voicemails?
- Have you done it? Has someone done it to you?
Photo © Nevena Kozekova – Fotolia.com
How do you know when it’s over?
Sara and I sat happily in our own little worlds at a table at the Depot, two cups of coffee and two wide-open newspapers between us — the adult version of parallel playing — when our shared solitude was interrupted by two fortysomething women at the table next to us.
“I’m just not happy,” the blonde said.
“You haven’t been happy for a long time,” her brunette friend said.
“But, the kids. I keep thinking about the kids. I don’t want to ruin their lives.”
“Half of their friends are divorced; are their lives’ ruined? You have to think of yourself, too.” 
“I know. But, I don’t know if I’ve given it my all. How do you know when enough is enough?”
Sara and I looked at each other, trying not to appear as if we were listening, which of course we were. But the blonde’s question is one every person contemplating a break up or divorce asks him/herself — when do you know it’s over? At what point do you say this marriage or relationship cannot be saved?
I wanted to keep my marriage together, even though I was still stinging from Rob’s affair. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and I wasn’t happy, but I — like the blonde — thought of my kid; I didn’t want to hurt him. But I know the exact moment when I knew it was over — when Rob lied when he no longer had to.
A while ago the Huffington Post asked people to share when they knew their marriage was over. Some divorce stories are funny, some are sad, some seem as if they might have been hasty. But, who knows what goes on behind those white picket fences?
I remember reading something Joyce Maynard once wrote when someone asked her when do you know it’s over. She wrote:
A person who is profoundly unhappy in a marriage is also depriving his or her partner of the experience of being wholly loved and accepted, rather than endured. A person who silently cries out … “I can’t live this way” — and then does live this way, despite her cries — is also quietly teaching her children to ignore their own inner voices, and failing to convey to them what may be the most important lessons we can teach them: To be true to one’s self, and celebrate the extraordinary gift of being alive. To live one’s life to the fullest. To be the best person we can be.
OK, I agree: We must be true to ourselves. And to our partners, too. But, instead of living “this way, despite her cries,” I always wonder if we are doing all that could be done. What could she have been doing instead of crying? There are many truths — how do you know which is the right one?
- When did you know it was over?
- Do you still look back and say, yes, I did the right thing?
- Have you been true to yourself?
photo © Aaron Kohr – Fotolia.com
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