Monday, May 31, 2010


As any Catholic, good or otherwise, knows, this is a special number in the Bible. Moses in the wilderness, Noah on the arc, and any number of various other rogues passed off as saints, bore their particular travails for forty days, after which they were variously enlightened or delivered from their trials. For me, the forty day point represents something a bit different, as that's when the No Sex or Bad Sex question starts to rear its particularly repellent head. It's a question that I always face with equanimity early on, completely convinced that this time, I won't cede. And I have to admit this time it really is going quite well; it's been a good long time since I've felt this level of indifference to the penile-bearing among us. Indifference being, of course, infinitely superior to my more usual aversion or disdain: these being, obviously, strong emotions, and strong emotions being at the root of the problem. No, this time it's indifference that I'm savoring, to keep me squarely on the straight and narrow. Is this, then, the much-celebrated shift that women have to look forward to in their, well, forties? Because, hello Lawd, there's a sinner here, camped out in her own little wilderness, who could use a little bit of deliverance...!

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