I’ve always had a dirty mind. I can’t say when I first became aware of it, but I know it was when I was very, very young.
I was always an advanced kid for my age (NO, not THAT type of advanced! see… my mind is in the gutter) and could read books that were probably more suited to adults. “The Joy of Sex,” for example. It became my ‘bible’ and I remember being the centre of attention, boys and girls gathered around me as I explained the intricacies of foreplay. I was seven.
Needless to say, I didn’t actually have sex until I was in senior high school, but I was famous for dishing out the dirtiest jokes around and my flirting skills were second to none. I guess in this day and age I would have been considered a prick tease. I didn’t see it that way, I was simply being myself. I couldn’t help it if the boys and men around me wanted to do things to me that my poor mother would have locked them away for.
When I reached university I became famous (or perhaps notorious) for my answering machine message. It was recorded in a husky voice that could only be described as my ‘phone-sex’ voice, but was actually a result of a heavy cold I’d been fighting for weeks.
As I aged I had expected things to die off. Nope. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
If anything, my sex-drive was now out of control. I craved sex like most women crave chocolate when they have PMS. I was ravenous. I noticed at particular times of the month it got worse, but overall, it was pretty much constant.
And I was now also what one poor victim, I mean, man, had described as, “Nasty.”
Yes, I was a dirty, nasty whore. Well okay, I wasn’t a whore, but I liked the sound of it.
People tell you as women get older that things dry up. Let me just say without being crude, that there isn’t anything like that happening to me.
Yep, I celebrate my 80th birthday this week and I figure a few red wines, not to mention a few handsome young men is just what I need. ‘Granny’ is not a word in my vocabulary.