” your blogs have the mood swings of a menopausal woman or a teenage girl”

“Your blogs have the mood swings of a menopausal woman or a teenage girl “ the words of a friend who’s judgement I trust more than my own, I think she is right, my God, I am menopausal, its male menopause, thats it, there’s something wrong with me. What happens next convinces me.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, the sun is shining, there are pretty girls wandering around everywhere in skimpy summer tops and short shorts, I am single, I am a man, why not go out and mingle? What do I decide to do? I flop on my sofa, I turn on the TV, I flick to a crappy channel and I watch Beaches, a soppy girlie movie with Bette Middler, about two life long friends who meet on the beach in Atlantic City when they are seven years old, in the end Betts friend croaks of a vile disease, leaving her young daughter to be brought up by her friend. By this point I am weeping, like a menopausal woman, or a teenage girl, the worst of it is I realise I want to cry, I am happy to cry, I realise I am in trouble.

I used to look at women, appreciate them, find them sexy,maybe let my mind wander, but no further than that, I was married, I was committed to a relationship, it wasn’t the right thing to do.
Now I am not in a relationship, so all is ok, I look at women,I see sexy women, I begin to feel attracted, then I shut off, can I just have fun? Nope, for some bloody reason this last year it has, in my head had to mean something special. I have been unable to meet a woman, find her sexy and sleep with her, well thats not technically correct, I have, but it hasn’t felt right. For some reason I want romance, I want love, I want meaning. Why?

I begin to wonder if it is medical, or mental or both, now I am not a hypochondriac, I am sure of it, but a bloke is supposed to be able to shag a pretty girl, back in the day I certainly would, given a fair wind jump into the sack at any opportunity. Now that’s not what I want.I don’t understand why, there are lots of women out there, some of them, deluded mad things that they are fancy me, some of them I really fancy, so what’s the problem? It doesn’t feel right, I don’t feel right.I think in my head that it has to be prefect, it has to be a love job.

I trundle off to the Doctors, I explain I think I have a problem, we discuss, I am sent for a blood test, my Testosterone, it comes back normal, this worries me more still, so now its psychological, theres nothing physically amiss, I panic, my sex life is at an end. I tell the Doctor I am really worried, its not natural. I am prescribed a pill, 2.5mg I am promised will ensure that nature will take its course, 5 mg guarantees it.

I decide I need a dry run, well sorry dry run may not be the best terminology, but you get the idea. I don’t want to find out these pills turn me into a ravenous sex fiend, I decide to practice “a seul” as one might say, I take just one, the result is as per the label.
Job done, medically all works, I have pills to guarantee a successful outing, I have no date, I am not really ready for a date. Life sometimes is just too complicated.

I make a resolution to stop watching soppy films. To not think about love or being loved and to concentrate on real things, like emptying the rubbish bins, changing light bulbs, love can take care of itself, I need to sort out my muddled head.

Tommorrow is my birthday, I’ve been single for one year, I have learnt much, I have much more to learn, I’ve spent a year looking, listening, talking, but most of it in my own head, its time to live in the real world.


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