Now here she sat, on the cusp of middle age, signs of it visible everywhere. She hadn’t gone to the doctor yet to get the official diagnosis, to get it spelled out to her on a piece of paper that showed the changes in her blood, but she felt it. She was half-way through this life. Even though statistically that was a very optimistic way of looking at it. Realistically, she could die tomorrow, in two months, or in fifty years. It was more the sense of mortality it gave her. She’d read often enough that sixty was the new forty. She’d even come across articles in respected newspapers declaring that, these days, seventy was really the new forty. Jane wasn’t so sure of all of that. All she really knew was her own reality. Her own mood swings, which she could never be certain were caused by altered hormone levels or just by sheer frustration with life.

“You’re lost in thought,” Annie said. Jane knew that was Annie’s way of asking her what she was thinking.

“Just pondering this whole menopause business.”

“I’m living proof that the whole business is, if not pleasant, at least survivable.” Annie smiled up at her.

“When you went through it, you made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal at all.”

“Because for me it wasn’t.”

“I think for me it might be a slightly bigger deal.” Jane kept stroking Annie’s hair.

“Tell me all the ways in which it’s a big deal for you then.”

Jane shrugged. “You know.”

“No, babe, come on. Tell me. Use your words.”

“You know I don’t explain things well.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. Besides, I’m excellent at reading between the lines, so to speak.”

Jane sighed. She couldn’t deny Annie’s request to at least try. Not when she was looking up at her like that, her face so open, her demeanor so inviting. “I don’t think I’ve reached the existential part just yet. I’m saving that for later.” Jane half-smiled. “I just, er, think that the low libido thing has thrown me.” Because Annie was lying in her lap it wasn’t easy to avoid her gaze, but at least Jane could look away herself. “Even when I, er, masturbate, not a lot happens. Even if I do reach some sort of a climax, it doesn’t feel very climactic. It’s just not very satisfying anymore.”

“Have you tried different techniques?” It sounded as though Annie was doing her very best to keep her voice steady.

Jane giggled. She wasn’t very adept at conversations like these. “I don’t really have an array of techniques to fall back on.”

“My guess is it’s not really a matter of technique, anyway. It sounds more like a matter of arousal. You may need more time than you used to, and more stimulation.”