At 68, I’m Having the Best Sex of My Life

So many things prevented me from having good sex when I was a young woman. First, there was the crushing shame I felt about my sexual fantasies. Then there were the ridiculous beauty standards I absorbed from the media and failed to live up to (as did all my friends). Third was the sexual shield I put up to protect myself from random catcalls and harassment in public. And in private, there was the long haul of pure exhaustion from raising sometimes difficult children, making a living and running a household, coupled with the growing resentment I felt for my husband, who rarely asked what I needed and often put his sexual needs first.

All of that — all of life as a woman — got in the way of me becoming the eager, responsive, joyful sexual being that I’m becoming today, at age 68. And the irony is, I got here by accident. I wasn’t seeking a sexual awakening when I opened our marriage a year and a half ago. I was seeking relief from my husband’s sexual needs.

Here’s what happened instead — or in addition — to assuaging his feelings of lack. About six months into our experiment with polyamory, while my husband was dating others and finding his groove, a man across the country, a reader of my open marriage stories on Medium, started texting me some sexy stuff that turned me on.

That was pretty much the perfect scenario for an old repressed woman like me. Since there was no way we could meet in person, due to the physical distance between us, there was no real threat to my marriage or my sexual status quo. It was easy to participate and cost me nothing. There was zero risk. So I sat back and marveled as this charming man wooed me. He complimented me. We exchanged racy pictures. I was nervous about that! But he kept up the pursuit.

He sent me super sexy voice memos in which he told me how much he desired me — in French! We followed up with video chats where clothing was removed and the compliments kept flowing. My libido exploded. It felt like I had an atomic bomb lodged in my nether regions. And since there was no way to consummate, I brought all that newfound sexual energy back to my husband, who was well pleased.

Meanwhile, I found that all of my negative ideas about sex in general, and my lack of attractiveness in particular, were completely wrong.

Here’s a sampling of the scales that fell from my eyes in the past year:

I thought I was too old, too wrinkled, or too flabby to be alluring. Nope. My suitor was 12 years younger and not the least bit dissuaded by my flaws.

I thought because I have only one breast (my mastectomy scar is covered by a beautiful tattoo) that my body was repellent. Wrong again! Not a problem. Bring it on, he kept saying, even after the exchange of revealing pictures. So I did.

I thought my sparse pubic hair made me look sickly. I grew up in an era when women didn’t shave their pubic hair, but both menopause and chemo wrecked havoc on my curlies. Yet once again, it didn’t bother my romantic interest. My concerns were moot.

I thought my “perverted” sexual fantasies (focused on spanking) (Shhhh. Don’t tell!) would drive away a “normal” man. Surprise! They did not. Although he hadn’t thought of spanking as any kind of sexy before, he responded with considerable lust when I wrote a spanking scenario involving the two of us.

Private lives and fortunate accidents

All these surprising discoveries were happening, and continue to happen, in private — meaning we haven’t come out to our children or extended family as polyamorous (or bisexual, or anything else; is it really their business?), though I’ve told three close girlfriends about what’s going on.

One reads my stories on Medium, which is a wee bit embarrassing. We don’t often talk about sex, and I don’t know the particulars of her own sex life in her long-term heterosexual marriage. One is a lesbian and currently celibate, and though she has no objections to my sexual adventures, she doesn’t have any similar desires of her own. The third is divorced and also celibate. She’s so turned off by sex that she sent me a puking emoji when I brought up my liaisons in texts.

That means two out of three of the women I’m closest to — all women my age — are currently turned off to sex. I’m not surprised, given the twisted sexual messages and experiences that being a woman in America bring all of us. That’s where I was headed myself until this fortunate accident occurred.

Why do I call it fortunate? At the risk of sounding like a huckster, I want to say that my revived sex life feels like some kind of magic elixir — like the fountain of youth. I probably should mention here that my original suitor and I never met. Plans were in the works when his wife pulled the plug, deciding that she didn’t want to try polyamory after all. Still, his attentions put me on this path, and for that I am grateful. We remain email friends to this day.

After that frustration, I took my newly stirred sexual energy to the apps, and had a surprising amount of positive response on OKCupid. Turns out that lots of men are attracted to older women, despite what you have read, seen, and heard ad infinitum all around you. But ultimately, my interactions on the apps resulted in just one lonely and less-than-fulfilling sexual encounter.

After that, I thought perhaps I would give up. I wasn’t really that interested anyway! The French-talking charmer had just sucked me in… But then I connected with the bisexual man my husband was seeing, and that’s where I remain today. Now the three of us have formed a kind of “throuple.” We’ve been sleeping together for almost a year.

Here are some benefits I’ve noticed from reviving my long-lost sexual self: I have more energy. I feel more alive. My hair has stopped falling out. My happiness has increased. My body feels more fit and agile and, miracle of miracles, I’ve started having regular orgasms for the first time in my life.

Orgasms are not a slam dunk for me. Not by a long shot. But now that sex has become more important to me, I’ve been actively pursuing the goal of having orgasms more often. I’ve read books on the subject, and I’ve practiced with my two men.

One thing that led me astray back in the day was the response of a boyfriend when I masturbated to orgasm in his arms after we had penetrative sex. He said it made him feel bad that I had to bring myself off. He wanted to be able to do that for me. Uh-oh, I thought. I’m emasculating him! So I stopped touching myself before, during, or after sex (for the next 40 years!), which resulted in me having far fewer orgasms. What a dope.

Now my attitude about that has changed. Now I recognize that the cultural pressure on women to orgasm via penetration is silly, because most women need clitoral stimulation to come.

My Takeaway

Which brings me back to my original question: Why do human beings take so long to get a clue and grow up? If only I’d known when I was younger that the things I believed about sex were backwards and stupid, I would have had a lot more years of vital sexual life.

To recap: here’s what I learned in the last year — at the ripe old age of 67–68.

Kinky sexual fantasies are not uncommon and nothing to be ashamed of. If you share yours with your lover, chances are he or she will learn to love what you love, or at least be glad to help you find your bliss, whatever unique route that takes. Don’t let your kinks stop you from getting sexual satisfaction.

Beauty standards are BS. Men find all kinds of women sexy. Those imperfections you’re so worried about? He doesn’t even notice them! And if he does, he quickly forgets them in the heat of passion. I’m guessing it’s the same for every gender. Lust is all around you — it’s yours for the asking. You were never meant to be perfect. Don’t let your physical imperfections stop you from getting sexual satisfaction.

Now that I’m older, fewer men harass me on the street. (Getting older is a lot better than advertised!) But to the men who still imagine it’s cool to shout (or whisper) sexual “compliments” to female passersby, please stop. It’s not flattering. It’s threatening. And it shuts us down. And to the women carrying around those invisible sexual shields for protection: don’t let boorish men stop you from getting sexual satisfaction. There are plenty of good men out there. They just aren’t as loud.

Finally, to the exhausted women working and raising families, I get it. You don’t have to put out for your lover if you don’t want to. But if your lack of desire is born of resentment, the sooner you take care of that, the better. If your partner isn’t giving you want in the bedroom or out, ask for it. Not meanly. Not angrily. Just plainly and simply. Because you deserve fun sex as much as he does. Don’t let inconsiderate partners stop you from getting sexual satisfaction.

I’m not saying the sex I’m having is always fantastic. I’m not saying I never have sexual problems anymore. What I’m saying is society and circumstances set me up to have mostly crappy sex for most of my long life, and now, at long last, it’s finally getting better.

So I’m still wondering, why did it take so long for me to get a clue and grow up? Whatever the answer, I’m glad I finally did.