Senior Sex!

There, I’ve said it. Now I’ll go to hell!

Seniors are not supposed to have sex, safe or otherwise; according to the younger generation that is. So let’s not tell them what we’re up to. When the subject comes up, we’ll act shocked and say, “OH! How gross!” as they do. They probably think that they’re finished at age thirty or forty. Let’s not enlighten them; they’ll get a pleasant surprise when they get there.

The time of day is important. The little guy still likes to rise in the morning, but so does the urge to pee. By the time I’m ready to climb back into bed the moment has gone and a cup of tea seems more important. During the day is fine but here is always the chance of someone dropping by, which they do a lot. So that’s mostly out. The evening seems to work best except if we’ve been working all day and are too tired. Or, if there’s something good on Neflix.

Of course, we don’t make love as much as we used to. Rosalie and I have cut it back to twice a week…Yeah right! If only my libido were that good. It’s frustrating at times though, you get in a cozy mood with your spouse after a little bit of marijuana cookie and a few glasses of wine, hop into bed, and…nothing. Even if you do manage to get going one of you is sure to get a cramp in the leg, and while you’re walking that off, your partner falls asleep.

And all those positions we used to try! My god, I ache just thinking about it. These days it’s serious planning to find a spot comfortable for both of us before we say to hell we can’t be bothered and go back to watching Netflix.

Even if you do manage the whole deed you pay the next day with back aches and probably a hangover, then swear to never do it again. The sex I mean not the hangover. At least we don’t have to worry about getting pregnant at our age.

As we grow older, men experience a loss of testosterone which diminishes our libido and we also get the dreaded PD. However, if we’re brave enough to talk to our Doctor, there are remedies for things like this. In Mexico, we can go to the market and buy little red pills called ‘Sexo Pronto’. It sounds great but as for the pronto part, I don’t think so. I waited a full five minutes and nothing happened. Of course, the doctors will tell us to drink less alcohol. I don’t know why they bother, they should know that won’t happen.

We connect more often in Mexico, perhaps because we wear fewer clothes down there and the internet is so bad we sometimes don’t get Netflix.

Writing this has left me a bit frisky so I’m off to find Rosalie and decide who gets the cramp, and who falls asleep. But first, I’ll check out Prime Video.