Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Life After Hormones
Of course there is no such thing as life after hormones. Literally as well as metaphorically, from day one until the time we check out of this form, those powerfully concentrated chemicals work us like puppets on strings. Once upon a time I had a fantasy that after menopause, I would suddenly be free from all cares and concerns, that I would be happy to gum my creamed corn and settle into old age. I am so funny sometimes.
Though it's true that my emotional state is rarely as fraught as it was when I was young, I'm still extremely passionate, I care deeply, love deeply. I still flop around. I laugh hard and on occasion cry my eyes out, sometimes for no apparent reason.
Yesterday I was in a really good mood. Had a nice long conversation with a dear one, sat around drinking coffee till 11:00 a.m. Then I got my act together, went out and took a sweaty walk down to Chinatown so I could buy housewares, my favorite thing now that I have my own place. En route, I sat down at Teaism in Penn Quarter to drink iced tea and watch the world go by. A guy at the next table started chatting with me; this is not uncommon in DC; it's a friendlier city than most people expect. But what was completely unexpected is that he asked me out! I was totally taken aback. This was not some old geezer like me. He was youngish (maybe 40 something?) and really cute.
I wonder what expression came over my face. I bet it was funny, whatever it was. I told him I was married. He said, "So what? Cork is a great place to have a glass of wine. Why don't we go - how about Thursday after work?" Whatever stunned expression I was sporting must have become much more exaggerated. What I'm trying to say is that even after he had a very good look at me, he was still interested. Whoa. Or should I saw wow?
I'm 57 and can still radiate pheromones? As you can imagine, I am rather full of myself this morning. I'll get over it. But ... wow.