One of the great joys in my life since I turned fifty is that I don't feel nearly as sexually driven as I once did. It's as if there was this mating instinct that left me on high alert almost constantly. Many a relationship has been ruined by men who cannot control this instinct and so develop a condition wherein their neck most resembles a turret and their eyes are constantly scanning the room looking for females of mating age. It's not that they don't want to remain faithful to their partner, but it seems there is hormonal imperative that, even for people like me who learn to ignore it, is a struggle on a daily basis. A little while after my fiftieth birthday I noticed a sharp downturn in that instinct, and it was great! I didn't need a Viagra prescription, nor did I run to the physician for a prescription for testosterone cream. Instead I shouted "thank God!" Suddenly there seemed to be much more time in my day. I started to appreciate beauty in all its forms much more often. It was amazing.
I have also learned that the world doesn't necessarily understand this shift in normal males who are not trying to convince themselves they will never age like, Donald Trump, Larry King, and at least one of the
It's too bad that we don't have a good word to use when the people we love but don't want to send pictures of Anthony Weiner to are seriously ill and we want to reassure them that we care about them but aren't going to show up at their door, suitcase in hand. Keep trying, though, because there are so many people who need to know not only that they are special but that they are loved because that knowledge in and of itself is healing - for both the one who hears it and the one who says it.