|A nice bush|
I approach this post with some trepidation as it concerns a delicate matter, not usually dealt with on blogs that I read. But here goes... As I've mentioned we were away for a good 3 1/2 weeks and as we were staying with relatives we experienced a certain shyness about 'getting it together' during the hours of the night, with the result that we only managed 'it' once. As we turned homeward bound, we exchanged knowing smiles and hinted at what joys were to come once we were back in our own bed and in the privacy of our own home. We mentioned this to each other a few times. The net result was that when we were home and in our own bed, the heightened anticipation resulted in (as Sextant has put it) - equipment failure. Now this was probably on both sides of the bed but is always more obvious on one side than the other. In the past, I have always wondered why psychologists recommend making a special date with one's partner, emphasized by romantic touches like candles/wine/log fire/sweet music or whatever turns you on. On the odd occasion we have tried this even when we were young, we were both so self-conscious and performance-conscious that any such efforts were also a complete flop. Now that we are in our sixties the whole thing can balance on a knife-edge. Although, I can count on one hand the number of times my husband has had a 'failure to stand up' experience in the last 40 years, he takes the cake as the World's Worst Worrier over just about anything you can think of, anything from 'how will we make it through retirement? (Finance), to 'how can I ever lose weight'? Perhaps his biggest worry ever would be that his sex life may diminish one day. He lives in denial and doesn't appreciate at all my helpful remarks about prowess having necessarily to decline with age, nor does he understand that I find the idea equally devastating myself. Then I had a brainwave! After tactfully dropping the subject for a week or so with it nevertheless hanging over us like a ton of bricks, I remembered my Dolphin! He always used to enjoy playing with that and we hadn't used it for ages. So I had a plan.
One morning, I put down my book and asked if he would mind if I indulged myself a little with our favourite sex toy? He cast me a suspicious look and said 'not to push it' but I just told him to carry on reading and set it to work......
After a few minutes, as I had hoped, his book was cast aside and he made a grab for the controls. No words were exchanged but a very satisfactory result was accomplished on both sides. I hope this heralds a return to normal although I know he still has fears. Still, baby steps. Meanwhile, did you notice the Freudian title of this post? Bush? I wish. Menopause has such a lot to answer for. I still think we have a more difficult time than the men.