Okay, for the first time in almost fifty years, I am not ruled by my sex drive. I finally understand something my novel’s hero, Richard Wilson, does not – why one stops wanting sex. I recently spent time on a cardiac floor and was discharged on medications notorious for messing with one’s libido. It’s not that an orgasm doesn’t still feel good, it’s just way down the list of priorities, like, I submit, happens with way too many wives and girlfriends, for whatever reason. I literally can take it or leave it, with the most surprising part being I don’t really care either way. Who knew? But, I hasten to add, I do not find sex distasteful to any degree and would gladly make myself available to my significant other for her pleasure if asked.
Seems a shame that Dr. Wilson is going to have to have a cardiac event before he and Liz can get along better.