Bed of Rose's: HSDD, Infidelity, Menopause, and Me

Rated 5.00/5 based on 2 reviews
Five years have rolled past, possibly getting more rolls than I. Yes, rolls in the hay/in bed/on the kitchen counter - whatever. But I'm still trying. Only now, I'm also in menopause. Yippee. What else could go wrong? Wasn't that a stupid thing to ask. The continuing saga of life with HSDD. More

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About Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.

Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.

I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.

Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)

An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!

I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."

And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.

Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.

As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.

And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

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Learn more about Rose Maru
About the Series: Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder - Life, Love, and the Sexless Marriage
Collections of stories, factual articles, helpful (some less than helpful, but still humorous) suggestions relating to Rose's struggle to deal with Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome (HSDS) / Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (HSDD). From her self-discovery of actually missing something ("Who knew? Some people have intercourse more than once a year!") to realization of the impact of HSDD upon her husband, who also struggled to delve into the mystery of what had happened to his blushing, flushing, sex-starved bride-to-be. Compounded by daily challenges facing those unable to recognize "sexy" resulting in breaches of normal social etiquette and "Too Much Information"(TMI)("Holy cow! Who knew you can't talk about marked clitoral engorgement in the grocery checkout line?"). Yet more complications being multiply-orgasmic (but not wanting any), to braless existence, to self-imposed 'Mommy Porn' writing self-treatment, to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), to premature menopause, to infidelity, and beyond. Explore the often humorous, but always poignant world of reality & fantasy as seen by a middle-aged, messed-up kind of gal, not yet willing to give up on getting her mojo back.

Also in Series: Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder - Life, Love, and the Sexless Marriage

Also by This Author


Thomas Lawrence reviewed on Feb. 6, 2019

I loved it! I laughed, I giggled, I nodded knowingly to myself, I nearly cried, I cheered, it made me angry and it made me sad but it left me with a glimmer of hope for better things ahead. In short, it made me feel all of my emotions, as a reflection of Rose's emotions. It was everything a good book should be. I can't say enough good things about this book, except to say "Thank you Rose for sharing this with us."
(reviewed 25 days after purchase)
Dale McKenzie reviewed on Jan. 26, 2019

Wow! What can I say about this work of Mrs Rose?
Just as the title suggests, not some of the better times in life and especially not ones that most would open up and walk their readers through. But Rose does and help, understanding and hope can be had by all.
The openness of the issues and honesty are beyond impressive!
While saddened by life's heart aches, still there is hope for her and others who are struggling with similar problems. You are not alone!
Thought provoking, heart breaking and brutally honest. One of the hardest journeys yet but, definitely worth reading!
Thank you Rose!!!!
(reviewed 13 days after purchase)
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