Widows and Widowers
I have been exchanging views with a young widow who is in deep mourning after the recent demise of her much-loved mate. She finds solace in the invisible arms of her God
I am a middle-aged widower who's mourning for my recently lost mate is over-ruled by the alchemy of a still-virile male physique that continues to produce copious amounts of testosterone, which, without the regular domestication of loving sexual intercourse drives the male hormones towards rapacious impulses and imagery.
In simple terms the accustomed feelings of gentle and constructive husbandry that I have enjoyed over the past 25 years of marital bliss, have, despite the ravages of age, returned to the youthful, savage, relentless drive of mate-hunting.
This surge of kundulini energy and focus is clearly evident on the racquetball court where I easily out-last, out-play and demolish the youthful power of my husky young sons. On the golf course I am once again unleashing enough power to smash the ball 300 yards. And our once calm and peaceful household is now more and more frequently interrupted by my challenging roars of male dominance.
So there you have it
It took me a while to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.
Now that I know
it is only fair that you know
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3 comments:
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