Rose Garden: Life with Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome (HSDS)

So have you had your two-and-a-half romps this week? No? I'm not shocked. Neither have I or my husband. Oh, sure, he would've signed up to be above average - at least if the sexual beast-girl he thought he had married was the one that ended up in the honeymoon suite.
A funny thing happened on the way to the altar, though - somewhere between "I do" (oh, and I guess I do THAT, too... ooo, wait, that sounds a little kinky, but I might want to do that... seriously? There? Well, sure... Are you sure we have to get up this afternoon? I don't think I can walk without a bowlegged gait...) and "I do... at least I think I remember to... uh, probably this past month - well, at least in the past year." - it turns out I don't.
I never really think about sex. I don't feel sexual urges. I don't remember if I like to have orgasms, no matter how easily I climax. Therefore I don't routinely think to do the horizontal tango (let alone the swinging-from-the-chandeliers, feet-behind-her-ears, drag-her-man to-the-bedroom wild-woman love-making marathons I knew from my early adult years). Oh, and I guess I also don't grasp when something is "To Much Information" (TMI) for routine conversations and book blurbs.
Little did I know I wasn't alone. In fact, some studies by the old definition of Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome (HSDS) suggested almost a third of all women, at some point in their life for a variable time frame, experience these same lacks of urges and desires.
Too bad I didn't find out sooner than two decades into my marriage that HSDS / HSDD were real and not some odd feeling I was missing out on something.
If you or someone you know possibly lacks what you'd consider 'normal' urges and desires to do the nasty (or even the tame), you've got a friend.
Join me on an expedition from realization to recovery, with wandering side-trips through various back alleys of my brain, where luscious, wet, sweat-covered sheets are just as mysterious, and just as easily lost back into the mists.
(Please note this book is not intended for those under eighteen years of age. Hell, at that age, you're not supposed to know anything about this stuff. If you're under that age and not interested in sex, that's okay; but if you're forty, married, and feel like you're missing something - that's NOT okay, and contrary to what someone else may tell you, "Sorry - size DOES matter" Oh, wait, I mean, "No, it is NOT normal to NOT think a single, sexy thought over the course of a month." Do not accept this lying down - er, uh, no, not the right words, sorry - you can do it lying down, or even standing if you want - but, just so long as you want to - you deserve to be a sexual being, to know and share love in an intimate, special way, between you and your chosen one (or three or more, I guess, if that's your thing). I guess that's a long way to say, "I'm going to say a lot of four letter words, talk about my anatomy, and reveal some really personal details that might rot your brain if you read them when you're too young. (Old enough means you know "circumference" is what I meant when I shared that little size comment above.)" )
So this is what I tried to do about it, for better or worse - or for no other reason than it might be a little entertaining to see what insane ideas this particular HSDS-woman conjured up for her recipe to recovery.
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Definitions for the brain-dead or those that fell asleep between the title of the book and here:
HSDS: Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome
HSDD: Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder
No, as far as I'm concerned, there is no difference: both mean I don't remember to... to... dammit, what was it again?