Oh, man, Frankie! In response to my last post in which I whined about how older women seem to be in flux (and apparently it’s not just me), a nice reader named Frank posted comments that resonated with me in a big way. He said:
"To me there is a difference between wild child and real passion. I find that my meter that once pointed solidly to the crazy side, now points more toward a yearning for emotional as well as physical intimacy. The once out of control fumbling has been replaced by intentional action. Frequency has been replaced by quality."I won't hold that frequency crack against you, Frank. I'm just happy your meter’s pointing. But I hope you don’t mind me quoting you, because you make a compelling argument for pursuits of passion being more satisfying, long-lasting, and meaningful than anything the dormant wild child of our youth could generate. And you're right, we keep looking back, trying to resurrect our youth because we're pummeled day in and day out by airbrushed ads that define for us what beauty and coolness ought to be.
I'm thinking that the expectations many of us have for ourselves, whether we're single and looking or married and bored, are based on the wrong criteria – outdated, ineffectual, and dumb standards of behavior and attitude that may have served us once very well (they did get us beer, hit-and-run sex, and numbers on bathroom stalls), but now aren’t enough. For me, it makes sense to ask why I would want to redeploy my wild child which, if truth be told, was also the instigator of the worst trouble I ever got into. They didn’t call me "T" for my ta-tas.
In fact, we need a shift in outlook, an upgrade of standards, a new definition for sexual beings in "midlife" (ick, is that four letters?). Otherwise, we're just setting ourselves up for failure and disappointment -- and expensive psyche sessions. With the wisdom, confidence, playfulness, and honesty of our years (plus a gym membership), we have the potential to create deeper, more meaningful, and passionate intimate relationships without feeling like we should go bar hopping or get it on in the backseat of a car -- although my back seat is plenty roomy and I never say never.
So Frank, thanks for the attitude adjustment. Girls, you won’t believe it, but it seems it took a man to give me the insight I needed. How crazy is that?
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