Yep. I bought a pregnancy test and an emergency contraception. At the same time. Me & the checkout lady were laughing. I assured her that I knew that this wasn’t how it all works, and that the pregnancy test was mostly a confirmation of peri-menopause bullshit than an actual concern of actual pregnancy. I could be potentially pregnant. I am having sex. With condoms, of course. One dude has had a vasectomy, but it could happen with the other one. Condoms can fail. But I’m not pregnant. I’m just dying. Well, my lady parts are anyway.
It’s weird, to have my lady parts dying. I mean, I’m not, like, using them, per se, but it’s weird.
I don’t want to breed. But I sure love to fuck.
I live in terror that menopause will kill my sex drive altogether. I do not want that. I love sex.
This is one reason I’m so fucking furious that Benedict is celibate and opting out of my dying lady parts. I want to have as much sex as I can while I want it. And that chemistry.
But I’m having sex. As my shopping cart indicates. And I’m having really great sex. I’d just like to be having so much more of it. But some is better than none. And quality is better than quantity. And I’m getting quality, for sure.
I have always had a crazy high sex drive. I rarely find a man who matches me this way. Which is fine, I’m not enduring some massive hardship or anything, but I do want to have a sex life, hopefully for many many more years. Maybe since my libido is high it won’t die along with my lady parts.
A girl can dream.