Will It Interfere With My Sex Life?
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: We’re in the Seychelles, where it’s rainy season. When it’s not raining, it’s hot-as-Hades with a chance of suffocating humidity. So we’re moving as little as possible, getting some travel planning taken care of, and dipping into the hotel pool when it’s not raining. And sometimes when it is raining.
Will It Interfere With My Sex Life?
A weird random fact that is filed away in my head full of weird random facts: the people of Nairobi generally don’t like air-conditioning. For the most part, that’s fine—the city had delightful weather while we were there. I was mostly fine. But cars were a different matter. The Uber app allows the rider to request cool temperatures (along with music preferences and whether or not you welcome conversation), so Lee dutifully requested AC for every ride we took, but not once did a driver notice. Or maybe they did, and rolled down the windows just for me? It’s hard to say. But every single car that picked us up had windows down, no AC.
So, being the princess that I am, I just started asking them to please turn on the AC. They kindly obliged, because that’s how Kenyan people are.
One day we had a ride all the way across Nairobi, with a garrulous driver who looked younger than he actually was. I, of course, was slightly overheated before we even got in his slightly stuffy car. I asked him to turn on the AC. He did.
Being occasionally slightly garrulous myself (and determined to normalize public discourse about formerly taboo topics like menopause), I made a joke about menopause, and how I’m always hot.
I’m not sure what happened next, but Lee is still grappling with the psychic fallout of that ride.
Our very talkative, curious, engaging driver didn’t know what the word menopause meant.
I, of course, am not the bad-ass plain-spoken tell-it-like-it-is speaker of truths that I’d like to be, so I instantly fell back on vague euphemisms. Uh, it’s, you know, The Change? Women in midlife. When we have hot flashes.
Here is his response, verbatim. I kid you not:
“Will it interfere with my sex life?”
And thus began thirty-seven of the longest, most awkward minutes of my life. We got a full discourse on the history of his sex life, his failed first marriage, and his relationship with his current girlfriend. He made many sex jokes and we all laughed a lot, some of us less comfortably than others. He reiterated, multiple times, that it’s all fine, whatever, as long as she doesn’t deny him sex. He wouldn’t want that. He tried to ask Lee if it had interfered with his sex life. Lee is better at hedging and obfuscating than I am, but it was still awkward.
So. Awkward.
I still regret ever opening my mouth. It turns out I really am an American-style prude.
Besides, sometimes silence really is golden.
Take care,
Lisa
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