Oh, I'm in such a good mood. I'm in a frolicking through the meadows while singing a happy song and attracting small woodland creatures in my wake, kind of mood.
I restarted my anti-depressants.
I take the 'happy pills' (what my daughter and I call them) because menopause is harsh and I got PMS badly because of it. I stopped taking them after I lost my insurance via unemployment and now I restarted (got job, insurance and happy pills... start dancing Disney squirrels!!).
Anyway, it got me to thinking... when I'm on the pills I sleep better, I feel better, I avoid the occasional moroseness that overcomes my usual sunny disposition. And honestly, I feel a little of ye olde lustiness. Without happy pills, I can see a hawt man and not wonder how large his baseball bat of love is. With the pills? Let's start swinging that thing!
Anti-depressants are wonderful things. I say that in all seriousness and would suggest most Americans would benefit from a large dosage of them. However, there is a side effect with some and that's a lack of sexual interest or the inability to orgasm.
Are you seeing my mind working here?
So taking the standard romance trope of the vaguely experienced heroine who has never had a proper O but then the hero swings his bat her way and she's orgasming so hard and so much that they're calling neurologists in to study her, well, it made me wonder what if it was just a chemical inbalance?
That made me wonder further, would anybody find that as interesting a plot twist as I would? What if there was a heroine who couldn't seizure whenever the mighty wang made its entrance and it just turned out the doctor had her on the wrong pill?
Seriously, would you read it?