My Menopausal Musings

I was excited to see The Irishman and his daughter this weekend. To my surprise, he came over alone on Friday evening and called it quits. Despite my own fears and doubts, I confess I didn’t see it coming. “I just can’t,” he said. As it turns out, The Irishman’s steamer trunk is filled with rocks and is sinking fast. He is too overwhelmed to be in a relationship at the moment, so he wants to be my friend. What is our ‘relationship’? I was waiting to talk about it, to give it a name we both felt comfortable with; he had already named it, become overwhelmed and needed to rename it. I didn’t know it, but I had been dubbed ‘girlfriend’. His friends knew. He told his sister. He had even told his mother! No wonder his mother was eager to meet me during her short visit from Ireland last week. The Irishman brought his sister and mother over for tea. I made sure the house was sparkling and baked a picture-perfect apple pie. I loved meeting them and had a fabulous time. Before ...

My first date with The Irishman was a quick after work drink with a time limit. I’ve had a lot of practice dating and realize that there is absolutely no such thing as cyber chemistry. We had exchanged a couple of e-mails and chatted on the phone but it was time to see if there was really anything there. We agreed to meet for a drink and both had someplace else to go when our hour was up. I of course arrived first and ordered my favorite smart cocktail, a scotch and water. He arrived with a big smile on his face, sat down next to me and then ordered a beer. I was surprised how easily we chatted. We covered everything from politics and religion to children and love. As he teased me about my liberal leanings a big grin appeared, letting me know he was pulling my leg, and he leaned over to kiss me. Just a lovely little kiss that made me keenly aware that I’d like to have a few more of them. Suddenly it was time to go. The Irishman paid for our drinks and then we walked for a coupl...

For the past few years I have been reading articles and interviewing woman about menopause symptoms and remedies. We've talk about trying everything from tincture of sage to hormone replacement therapy. Today the NY Times published " Menopause, as Brought to You by Big Pharma ," by Natasha Singer and Duff Wilson. It's certainly an eye-opener. Lawsuits and internal documents show how Pfizer and its predecessors promoted the idea of taking hormone drugs. If you or someone you love is careening into menopause, have them talk to family, friends and doctors. Be informed. For me, the cure for my hot flashes was sex. I highly recommend it ;-)

Months have passed. Valentine's Day is nearly here again, and not surprisingly, I'm single again. The lack of sex, although it wasn't that regular during my last relationship, seems to have brought on a new round of hot flashes. That said, I do seem to be on a much better footing. Oddly enough, so does our country. The nation has a new man in it's life and I figure I'm about due for something good myself. I've finished my memoir, which proudly began on this blog and it should be available for purchase by this spring. I realize I promised updates on the publishing process, but with the whole break-up combined with a world financial meltdown and an election, I guess it's all kept me a little busy ;-) I seem to have moved into a new menopause phase which I will begin to share again on my Boomer Girl blog. In the meantime, I'll let you know how the book is coming on this site. I've got to give a table of contents some thought and then I'm off ...

Between the next rounds of dating was a little more down time than usual. It wasn’t just me; everyone was spending less time on personal matters and turning all attention to politics and the war. It seemed as though my hot flashes were running as hot as the political debates. The hot flashes were never ending. I was not sleeping as well as usual. I wake myself up in the middle of the night because I am wildly ripping the clothes off my body. I am alone. I am just hotter than hell. It’s unbelievable. I am finally comfortable and drift back off to sleep only to awaken because I am so cold that I must get up to retrieve the duvet from the floor. Months of practice have enabled me to strip and merely throw the duvet to the side for easy recovery. My sleep is interrupted a bit less. Friends are considering hormone replacement therapy to subside their hot flashes. Others are talking about herbal teas and tincture of sage. I am not ready to go there yet. While I am occasionally...

Round Three has been very disappointing, but all is not lost. Faux 60 Year Old Man resurfaces and joins the roster. I am incredibly happy to hear from him. During this period of time he makes contact on several occasions and I am delighted. When he is with me he is kind, smart, thoughtful and vulnerable about personal issues that are impacting his life. I don’t want to be, but I believe I am smitten. I truly enjoy his company even when we aren’t having earth-moving aerobic sex. He couldn’t be more inappropriate or unrealistic or wrong for me. Even worse, each time he resurfaces I realize that I have actually missed him. I cannot deny that it is true. The encounter is more than fun, but his youth is beginning to annoy me, especially how he communicates – only via e-mail. The menopausal synapses finally connect and I realize that he has all of my contact information but I have none of his. Not everyone spends their life on the web. I am sure other women are receiving yellow roses, but he...

It is date day. He calls me and I explain that I find myself in his home town. He offers to drive me home and to take me out in the city. Without hesitation I agree. So much for the mad planning of menopausal women. Frantically, I shower and dress while having a hot flash. It is August, and while my friend is also having hot flashes, her husband is very thin, never hot and has no understanding of why I am sweating, swelling, yelling, crying and gasping for breath. I have fifteen minutes to be ready. The solution? Teething rings left in the freezer from years gone by placed between and under each breast. I am just beginning to breathe normally and the doorbell rings. My friend and I are paralyzed. Her husband befuddled. Insisting that my friend stay in the kitchen – I know her nose was pressed up against the window as I left – I go to answer the door for my mystery date. He is exactly what he represented. He is young, cute and smart. Stepping out with my most vivacious self, I hopped in...