I went nine months then got it.

Then I went thirteen months and got it.

In both instances, there was the faint possibility I would get laid and I feel this somehow rallied the Hormone Troops... "Alright, boys*, I know its been a while but we got ONE EGG left in storage! Its dusty and dented, but boy-howdy I think it can work! We're going over the top with this bastard! We're going to ruin Trudy's weekend and or/create an actual bastard! Whaddaya say, boys*? WHOO AHHHH

(*no woman would do this to me)

I wish that, whenever it stops, whether that one in April was it or not(Very little about my life has been that...uncomplicated, but maybe I'm due, right?) that I felt like it would reduce my bodily-embarrassment level by more than say 10%. I doubt that being period-free will even do that, much less that whole Margaret Mead post-menopausal zest thing that gives you all these new passions and energy. But maybe I'm just confused from having the world's longest retirement.