I don't even know why I'm writing this and I feel like such a fucking idiot, but I just… I need to say it somewhere, you know? And like, anonymously, because if anyone I know ever found out, I’d just actually die of shame. Not even kidding. I’m like, a grandmother, for Christ’s sake. A *retired* grandmother, which just feels like it makes it even worse. Like, past my prime, put out to pasture, and yet here I am, practically vibrating with… with *desire*. It’s disgusting, honestly. And I know that’s a strong word but it’s how I feel. Dirty. Just… so incredibly dirty and wrong. It all just hit me this week, like a goddamn freight train. My daughter was over with the grandkids, and we were playing Uno, and it was all so wholesome and lovely, you know? And then my husband, he just… he brushed my arm when he reached for a card, and it was just a little thing, completely innocent, but my whole body just… *jolted*. Like a shot of electricity right through me. And my mind just immediately went places, like, places that are completely inappropriate for a woman my age, playing Uno with her grandchildren in the living room. I swear to god I almost dropped my cards. And then I felt this flush, you know? Like a hot wave of shame just washed over me and I actually had to excuse myself to the bathroom for a minute because I thought everyone would see it on my face. And it’s not like this is new, exactly. It’s been… bubbling, I guess. For a while now. But it’s never been this intense, this *urgent*. It’s like, my body has decided it’s twenty again, but my brain knows full well I’m collecting my pension. And it’s this constant push and pull, and I’m just so tired of it. I used to be so good at compartmentalizing, you know? Back when I was still working, I could be in a high-stakes meeting, giving a presentation on Q3 projections, completely focused, sharp as a tack. And then I’d go home, and I’d be a wife, a mother, whatever. I had it all sorted. But this… this feels like it’s bleeding into everything. Like yesterday. We were at the grocery store, just getting some milk and bread, and this young man, he was probably twenty-five, he reached for something on the top shelf and his shirt just… it rode up a little, and I swear, I almost tripped over my own feet. And I had to consciously, like, *force* my eyes away. And I could feel my cheeks getting warm, and I just kept thinking, *what is wrong with you, you old fool?* And it’s not even like I’m looking for anything, you know? Like, I love my husband, he’s a good man, we have a perfectly fine, normal life. But this *thing*… it’s just there, all the time, buzzing under my skin. And I feel like I *shouldn't* feel this way. Like, society, or something, has this unspoken rule that once you hit a certain age, especially as a woman, you're supposed to just... gracefully fade. Become a sweet old lady who bakes cookies and fusses over her grandkids and maybe watches a lot of daytime TV. And I *do* all those things! I love baking, I adore my grandkids. But then there’s this other side of me, this insistent, demanding side that just wants… to be touched, to be desired, to feel that spark, you know? And it’s not just about, like, sex, either. It’s a whole damn energy. Like I’m still a woman, a vibrant, living woman, and not just some withered flower. And I’ve tried to talk myself out of it, to rationalize it away. I’ve told myself it’s just hormones, or maybe I’m bored, or it’s some weird post-retirement thing. But it feels deeper than that. It feels like… me. Like a part of me that I’ve always had, but now it’s just magnified, screaming for attention. And it’s so frustrating because it makes me feel so… juvenile. Like a teenager, constantly fighting against these urges. And I'm not a teenager! I've been through it all, the corporate ladder, the performance reviews, the office politics, raising kids, seeing them go off to college. I should be past this, above this. And honestly, the worst part is the guilt. The crushing, suffocating guilt. Because I feel like I'm somehow betraying my husband, even though I'm not doing anything, literally *nothing* except having these completely inappropriate thoughts. And I feel like I’m betraying myself, the person I’m supposed to be at this stage of my life. Like I’ve failed some kind of unspoken moral code for grandmothers. And it just keeps going, like a broken record in my head, 'you're too old for this,' 'what would people think,' 'you should be grateful for what you have.' And I AM grateful, but that doesn't make this feeling go away. It just makes me feel like a bad person for even having it. So yeah. That’s it. Just this gnawing, embarrassing, completely out-of-control libido that has decided to make a grand comeback in my twilight years. And I don’t know what to do with it. I can't talk to my friends, my daughter, certainly not my husband. They’d all just look at me like I’d lost my mind. Or worse, like I’m some kind of pervert. And I'm not. I'm just… me. An old lady who apparently still has a pulse. And it’s making me absolutely miserable. So I guess I just… put it out here. Into the ether. And now I'll probably delete this in the morning. If I can even sleep.