Short Story: Fertility & A Dilemma

Credit. Sue DeGregorio-Rosen, Photographer

By Sue DeGregorio-Rosen, RN, CLNC, Contributing Editor


We could measure our lives based on how well we adhere to our measure of a life well lived. Since I have gotten older, I find it’s easier for me to walk through life.  With age comes wisdom.  It happens when I share a sunrise that awakens my thousand-year-old soul with another.  Or when my fiercest dream is on the edge of being born. It happens when I feel open to new ventures and allow for the fantasy to take effect and maximize my pleasures regardless. 

 When we as women age we find that the ability to choose is nourishing.  We can act without fear and find courage to be free and continue to grow. 

There is a tendency in the media world among the stars, women for the most part, that a director will place the younger species in roles that could be played so much better with a little bit of experience, and with a look that is a little more refined, elegant and with so much more confidence.  The problem?

The problem is fertility………… 

 I find men that age well to be a very welcome entity, much more so than their younger selves. A healthy man is fertile all their lives, women are not.  Men can, for the most part, continue to procreate, women do not.

And there is the freedom that we, as older women, feel. We can do what we want. That wounds the fragile male ego.  We are in control.  

Our ideas are no longer manipulated as uncontrollable, so we find power in that freedom.  Our survival instincts are still somewhat rooted with wants sex and pleasure and fame and recognition.

In the animal kingdom their instinctive desire to want more doesn’t exist. They don’t have the need to evaluate whether they have a good life, so they don’t look to be any more than what they are.  But we as humans do.

I was a little bit older and a lot stronger when you and I crossed paths again, but I cannot lie, you were always tucked away in the corners of my bed sheets every single morning.

And much like the song ” You’re So Vain”, this is not about you.  It’s about me.

I was always struck by your audacity. 

“Hi, how are you?”

“How am I?”  I answered when you called, despite the shards of passion I felt had somewhat dissolved. Let the games begin.

“To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

“Just thinking of you.  Checking in on your passion barometer”

“My passion barometer?  That’s an interesting play on words. My life is good.  I have purpose, it’s purposeful.  Passion is something that sparks a fire, a kindling that can burn all night, if you will”

“Oh, I will”

“That wasn’t a question, it was a statement.  What is it you want?  Why are you calling?”

 “I would love to see you.  Care to meet up for a cup of coffee for old times’ sake?’

I hesitated before answering.  But curiosity had me counting the ways this could go, so I agreed.

“Would you like to meet at Sey Coffee?” Sey coffee is a peaceful place in Bushwick NY, and a favorite of mine, you can watch the coffee being roasted in the house. I was somewhat impressed that you remembered it. 

“What time?”

“How about 11 am?”

“Sounds good, see you there.”

As I dressed, I had the feeling of my skin on yours.  It was a nice feeling, an easy feeling.  I dressed casually, a white silk blouse, unbuttoned strategically without a bra, a short black skirt and boots as the weather was a bit brisk.  I slipped on a puffy short red jacket, tousled my hair. applied some hot red lips and off I went.  I hailed a cab and reached my destination, fashionably late by 15 minutes, and there you were. You were a little older, a little grayer, but without age it had no bearing on this meeting.

” Wow! You look hot as usual.  Do you ever age?”

My cab ride had already prepared me to step inside this situation to play my role.  Hot older woman, the feeling of feeling a feeling…….whatever that was. 

“Ok, so I am here.  Now let’s begin with not if you know what I am thinking”

‘`So then what are you thinking?”

“I am thinking that I am trying to figure out your intentions.  Why now?  What happened to your little girlfriend?  Did she find someone her age?”

“That was quick.  Yes, she did, as a matter of fact.  I am too old to be a father again”

Ah, there it was………Fertility.  Hormones……….that happy tired feeling of all it means. And so, the cougar has arrived.

“So, you called me?  Why?  Because your lustful and I am age appropriate?” 

“Well, now that you mention it….”  As you slipped your hand under my skirt onto my naked thigh.  

And suddenly I got that feeling, a feeling of looking back far more fondly than I wanted. It was that feeling, your hand, the sensation that maybe this kind of enjoyment should not be fought, but maybe I could just enjoy the wetness. Here’s the deal with getting wet. When a vagina is sexually excited, blood flows to increase the size of the clitoris so that the vagina lubricates itself.  That’s enjoyable.  

But could I, would I?  I had nothing to be concerned about.  I decided at that moment, as that hand slowly caressed my thigh that I didn’t have to wait until the last dance to realize that life whispered – take a chance. It meant to follow the hunger in my bones, and to celebrate my freedom, as an age-appropriate woman, in whichever way I liked. I expected you to make that first move.

So, I opened my legs…I got to choose.