One Benefit to Your Mid-Thirties

Though, I suppose this is the year I enter my late thirties. I kind of like that “Late thirties.” That sounds like the age when women do something ridiculous. “Oh, I bought this mink coat.” “Oh, you must be 34. Call me when you hit 37 and are buying mink coats for your horse.” “We get horses?” “Some women do.” Or you become a spy. Or go to Toledo and moon people. And you leave folks to wonder if that’s Ohio or Spain.

Anyway, 37 will be here soon enough. I’m enjoying the last dregs of 36, though, because I finally feel like the stupid shit I do is not surprising to myself. I know some things about myself. Like, I crave being a better, well-regarded writer. And, in order to do that, I’m going to have to show my work to some people and get their feedback. And then, when I find myself unable to open the emails from them?

I laugh, because, yeah, I hate criticism, no matter how helpful and spot-on and necessary it is to make my work better. But finally knowing that I hate that part, but that it’s necessary, has made me able to do it. And the feedback I’ve gotten so far has been super useful. Like, truly, exactly what I hoped for–good notes about where what is in my head does not quite translate to paper and kind words about how much folks like it. Ha, hopefully that will continue. But opening those emails is causing me to have a slight stroke of fear every time.

In my head, the Satanic menage a trois with the accompanying anal sex looms large, both because, even though the Devil as a character doesn’t push my taboo buttons, that’s the one part of the book I imagine some readers will be like “No, I am done with this filth and I am writing a sternly worded letter to this woman’s mother.” I do not want my mom getting sternly worded letters from strangers about her daughter’s Satanic butt sex scene. Especially because my mom’s eyesight is shot, which means my dad will have to read her those letters out loud.

Well…

Okay. That might be a little funny.

Still, I do not want it!

Okay, so that and that I have  no practical experience with a two-man one-woman menage a trois with a moonshining wrestling artist in the middle. So, I would die of mortification if people more familiar with dude-on-dude sex were like “Oh, lord, Betsy. I’m going to have to write a sternly worded letter to your mother about what a dumbass you are. Do you not even understand how male bodies work?”

So, it is with great relief that I can report that one reader said the Satanic menage a trois was very tasteful and another reader did not even quite realize the anal sex aspect of it on the first read-through. I can totally live with “author of tasteful, oblique Satanic butt sex.”

And I think my mom can, too.

Edited to add: I hope, anyway.

8 thoughts on “One Benefit to Your Mid-Thirties

  1. Just when I think you cannot possibly outdo yourself, woman, you go and do. Or outdo, as it were.

    I am jealous of all I didn’t get in my thirties, after reading your list. I want to write a sternly worded letter to somebody about that, in fact.

    But I am NOT jealous of the searches that are going to be directed to your blog for the next while, courtesy of three little words.

    Lordy mercy on a fencepost, woman. ;oD

  2. Believe me, the amount of hits I get every day from people looking for “childbirth porn” makes me long for that to be topped by people who show up here looking for Satanic butt sex.

  3. And madam, you know that ultimately they shall seek what they find. I doubt they’ll ever find it as tastefully or well written, though.

    (Actually, they deserve it, but not like they want. Heh.)

  4. Once again, the medication took over.

    They shall FIND what they SEEK, of course.

    Leaving now, and saluting you, as always.

  5. I just finished writing my stuff for the day.

    Which means I can go back to reading your stuff by about 7:30.

    Which means I will plough through (ha! no pun intended) to the satan’s butt-sex scene. Because now that I know such a thing exists I have to see how you execute it.

    Although I can say now without hesitation that I, having never had butt sex in my life (and never going to, lord willing) will have far fewer pointers on that than I did the whole Amish thing.

    Then again, I’ve never been Amish in my life either.

    Hmmmm. I wonder now if I can learn as much about buttsex as I’ve learned about the Amish. It would help if there were sort of a Butt Sex Lite thing people did. Maybe Rimming?

    Do you see what you’ve done to me. You’ve actually got me thinking about the quantitative comparisons of Amish and anal sex.

    Is Mennonite to Amish as Rimming is to Anal Sex?

    Would someone out there PLEASE make me hit “post comment” before this gets beyond hope? Like 12 paragraphs ago?!!?

  6. So if those are the kinds of things that one’s late 30s are supposed to convey, I have missed out on a lot. Certainly, I was never issued my horse. To whom do I address my complaints? And what may I reasonably expect out of my 40s?

  7. My landlord might have been a little upset had I been issued a horse on my 37th birthday. (I’ll be 38 next week — happy birthday fellow Aries, I assume?) I had to pay a fine just to have a cat. And I shudder to think what the horse would do to the carpeting.

    Late 30s isn’t bad. I hated turning 35 more than the two that came after it. (So far. Ask me again in two years when I turn 40.) Something about not being in that 18-34 age range screamed officially an adult, no going back now.

  8. I do not want my mom getting sternly worded letters from strangers about her daughter’s Satanic butt sex scene. Especially because my mom’s eyesight is shot, which means my dad will have to read her those letters out loud.

    right there… you just channeled David Sedaris.

    If you need someone to check the butt sex for authenticity, I’ll offer up the GayBoyfriend in Atlanta. He loves that kind of stuff. (butt sex and reading as the case may be)

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