Better Sex AFTER Menopause? Ohhhhh Yeah
Feb. 11, 2022
One symptom of menopause you may not have banked on was a breakup. But it happens. And then things can get much better.
I was 53 and in a bad way with my partner of nine years. I blamed menopause for everything, including:
Desert crotch: Not dessert, mind you, I'm talking dry vagina
Touched-out syndrome: Cringing every time he came near me -even down the block from me
Constant annoyance: The way he breathed. The way he left his junk...everywhere
But I held on. Why? Maybe it was laziness. Or maybe I was just in the rage trenches of menopause. Another thing: Sex f*cking hurt. Then, it happened. He dumped me. In retrospect. I’d have dumped me too. I was an out-of-control nightmare. He was not understanding my personal climate change. And at that point, neither was I. Each morning, I’d nurse a cappuccino with racoon eyes at the local café. Neighbors would scram. Why, oh why, me?It was hard at the time, and even now, to figure out what part of this wretchedness had to do with menopause — and what part was plain old broken-heartedness. Every emotion was amplified. I did miss my friend. But I did not miss living with him. And I certainly did not miss the sex. For me, dirty socks and dirty sex is a combo that really does not work — never did work. And yet I had let him move in. Not surprisingly, the bad decision eventually came back to kick me in the ass. So, there I was, crestfallen.
I wasn’t sure the urge for sex would ever come back. And I didn’t give a damn. To soothe my heart, and my wilted vagina, I took a guilt-free vacation from sex. But at 55, both my hot flashes and my fury began to taper off. I remember quite clearly — after 24 months and 3 weeks — I was perched at a classy bar uptown, legs crossed a la Sharon Stone, when my nether regions began to tingle. Was it the the barstool? Or was it the gentleman to my left?
He was very sophisticated and elegant. A Philippe Petit type. It struck me that I might feel safe with this person for re-entry — agile, elfin, fit. I was deeply out of practice and my dry spell was an issue. But I took the leap. And it was good. My flood gates opened. Not to him. Not to romance. But to SEX. Cue the internet: My comeback was exuberant. Most interesting was how open and curious I now was — acting on suppressed urges. A dash of kink. Women. Ring-a-ding-ding!
The mind-vagina connection
But binging anything gets tired. (Netflix: I'm looking at you.) Eventually, I wanted more. And after crossing every sexual proclivity that called my name (which I strongly recommend) that more was intimacy.
But could it work for me, now solidly past menopause, to bring intimacy into my sex life? It did.
Here's how: Listening to myself more and trusting myself. One of the most valuable benefits of aging is knowing what you need to be happy. I personally need intimacy. I like a companion. With their own pad. And a rollicking imaginative sex life. No dirty socks. But plenty of dirty sex.
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