Sweet Sticky Thing

Pay attention, cuz this one's gonna get complicated.

I'll start by sharing this photographic evidence of the reason that my butt may need its own tourist visa in the near future. I stumbled across these lovely little treats yesterday. There was this big sign near the bakery at one of the malls I haunt on weekends for "Hot Cross Buns." I laughed to myself reading it, because it just sounded like something out of a Dickens novel, which my early life resembled, except with nothing so exotic as Hot Cross Buns. Naturally, I just had to check 'em out.

Over the past 20 months, I've had mixed results with baked goods in Kenya. I think it may be due to the altitude, but there's definitely something off about the consistency of the cakes and pastries I buy here. Put bluntly, most baked goods I've tasted are abominably dry, dense and flavorless. Pastries are okay if there's enough frosting or fruit filling to help you choke them down. But even the allegedly buttery croissants I'm able to find just ain't right.

These Hot Cross Buns thrilled me! It was only when I got home and did a little online research that I realized I was treading into the realm of paganism. Though they've been coopted by Christianity as treats to be enjoyed near Easter, Hot Cross Buns were definitely a staple of early pagan celebrations. Frankly, I simply don't care if I'm headed to Hell in a handbasket, because these dudes were PERFECT. After a proper re-warming, they were all fluffy and just sweet enough, not cloying, with a healthy dose of spices. And there were raisins...REAL RAISINS, not some bizarre tropical fruit that gum up my teeth and unsettle my nerves. There was just one weird thing about them...the frosting crosses on top refused to melt. I had to break them up and eat them separately. (I'm trying not to read too much into that.)

I ate two yesterday morning, and one this morning, coveting the last one for a later date. But who am I kidding?? These buns will probably be available for the next few weeks' run up to Easter, and I'm gonna buy as many as possible until then. In short, my appetite, which had taken a bit of a dive in recent weeks, is back in full force!

Which is diametrically opposed to another self-diagnosis I made early last week, after

reading an article Gawker.com, the No. 1 online destination for vicious snark. Without putting too fine a point on this discussion, I learned that I am likely "sexually anorexic." This means that I'm not only NOT getting any, but I'm not actively trying to. Geez, why did they have to go and medicalize being a charming yet mildly prudish woman of a certain age with high standards and a low tolerance for bullshit?

I mean, I've discussed my expat dating challenges on this site before. As a 48-year-old never- married woman living on the African continent, I am a bona fide FREAK OF NATURE. Most women my age over here have been long married, are divorced or widowed, and have children at least, most likely a few grandkids, to boot. You just don't find too many women near 50 looking to date.......

Although there have been quite a few articles since I've arrived about the growing phenomenon of younger men and older women---aka "Sugar Mummies." But when you hear it discussed in the media, it definitely makes you feel morally repugnant for even entertaining the thought. By the time you're 40 here, most men consider you an "old mama" who should be picking out dentures rather than sinking your teeth into younger men. Other women your age might cut you a bit of slack--until they start considering you a potential predator to their own 20-something lads. Then you start getting the evil side-eye and the clucking tongues from them. You're basically branded a pitiful old whore who needs to take up gardening.

Ultimately, there's only been one 20-something man I'd even fantasize about getting busy with here. But sadly, he has the unfortunate habit of giggling when he gets really tickled. I'm talking schoolgirl "tee hees." It completely destroys any potential lust. It's a constant reminder that I started my first newspaper job when he was 2 years old.

It ain't gonna happen.

So now I'm apparently sexually starving myself. It's like, I need rehab, or something. Or maybe force feeding, or a freakin' IV bag! No, dammt, I just need ROMANCE!! I need laughter. I need thoughtful conversation. I need a shoulder to lean on. And I also need to go back 35 years, to when the title of this posting was a song by the Ohio Players. It works well as a metaphor for the rapture I experienced when first laying eyes on these Hot Cross buns. But GOD, I remember the time when I used to think lyrics that contained saucy double entendres like "Sweet Sticky Thing" were downright nasty! I remember a time when I used to dream that Stevie Wonder would sing at my wedding, and as I walked back down the aisle, arm in arm with my new husband, Stevie'd be crooning,

"Oh so long, for this night I prayed, that a star would guide you my way, to share with me this special day, where a ribbon's in the sky for our love...."

When I'm honest with myself, THAT'S why I may be considered "sexually anorexic. I've just never been able to be a raging slut. Oh, I can summon the freak in the right setting, but only with somebody I've at least hypnotized myself into believing I wanted to commit to. But sluttery for sluttery's sake has never been my MO. So I'm taking an (extended) break.

Gawd, I'm rambling here, so forgive me! But I hope I've made a modicum of sense. Anyway, my bottom line is that I looked up the lyrics of "Sweet Sticky Thing," and it turns out they weren't even remotely nasty. They were actually kind sweet. Sticky, even.

"You just go from man to man, I just don't seem to understand, Why you're so very hard to tame, You sweet sticky thing.

If I could slow you down sometime, I'd like to try and change your mind. You're really not the one to blame, You sweet sticky thing.

Sweet, sweet stick thing, Sweet, sweet sticky thing....

Every time that you walk by, You really leave me paralyzed. If you just wouldn't play those games, You sweet sticky thing.

Your beehive is full of bees, I wish you had a place for me. I'm really trying hard to change, You sweet sticky thing.

Sweet, sweet sticky thing. Sweet, sweet sticky thing....

Little buzzing bumblebee, I'd love to take you home with me. Where you'd share my beehive with me, You sweet sticky thing.

You leave honey everywhere, Sometimes I wonder if you care Who sees you when you do your thing, You sweet sticky thing.

Sweet, sweet sticky thing. Sweet, sweet sticky thing.....

Da da da da da da da....."

Now that's the kind of lovin' I could gorge myself on.........