You might not guess at first why a 60-something like me still has such a youthful swing to her hips – nor why a smile plays across my lips so often as I read messages on my phone.
On the outside, I’m the picture of respectability: bouncy blow-dry, smart tailored outfits, successful business and desirable address in an upmarket enclave of north-west London. So you might assume the most exciting thing in my weekend schedule is a Waitrose shop and a glass of Sauvignon. But my thrills are rather more daring than that.
Twenty years ago, in my 40s, I wrote an anonymous book that caused a stir with its scandalous tales of my sexual exploration.
And now, at 63, I’m enjoying sex that is just as pleasurable as it was in my youth – if not better. Whether it’s a mind-blowing rendezvous with my lover or new experiences with multiple partners, my 60s have heralded a sexual smorgasbord of delights. Take the recent occasion when I was offered a sensual massage by a professional masseur, which turned into a particularly thrilling sexual encounter.
Why am I telling you all this now? Because ten years ago I was floundering, with very little love life at all.
The menopause had utterly sapped my libido and my vigour in the bedroom, and I honestly believed I would never feel like having sex again.
I’m living proof that even the most sexually vivacious of women can be laid low by midlife hormonal changes. And I can’t emphasise enough what a knock it was to my confidence to find myself so sexually depleted. I barely recognised myself as my whole identity had been built upon an image of myself as a confident, sensual being.
It took me years to reignite my confidence and desire. But I did it, and now I’m on a mission to show women – and men – just how invigorating and fulfilling intimacy can be at any age.
I’m writing under my real name for the first time to show that you can reclaim the sexual power you fear is lost after menopause.
My interest in sex was ignited in my early 40s, after a monogamous ten-year marriage to my children’s father ended in divorce. While we were together, my sex life had been of the vanilla, missionary position, once-a-week type, and for the final four years we didn’t have sex at all.
But the end of our marriage coincided with the arrival of the internet.
I enjoyed six months of dates with men I encountered online, then met a man named Daniel who became my next partner. He was incredibly sexual, and he awoke a response in me. During the two and a half years we were together, he opened up a world of sexual pleasure and experimentation that I hadn’t known existed . . . including inviting others to join us in bed, something that had only featured in my most secret fantasies.
Our time together changed my attitude to sex and set the tone for the next decade of my life. With my sexual appetite raging – something I’ve now learned is common for women in their 40s as your body sees it as the last-chance saloon for procreation – I decided I didn’t want another serious relationship, but instead wanted to explore every sexual fantasy I’d ever had.
In 2006, aged 45, I published a book – The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker – which chronicled my insatiable appetite for sex and the daring liaisons I sought out.
Written under the pseudonym Suzanne Portnoy to protect my then-teenage sons, the book was a candid exploration of my hedonistic adventures, including taking part in the swinging scene and other alternative sexual lifestyles. I had threesomes, foursomes and more.
I went on naturist holidays and took tantric lessons. My most memorable encounter was a threesome with a long-time swinging partner and his friend, during which we all orgasmed simultaneously.
While there were some who tried to dismiss the book as merely salacious, undeniably it struck a chord, sparking conversations about female sexuality that I believe were long overdue. My inbox was full of emails from committed couples who credited my book with revitalising their sex lives.
It went on to become a bestseller, printed in multiple languages, and was republished in 2013 following the success of Fifty Shades Of Grey.
I’ve certainly never regretted my decision to test the boundaries of my sexual desires.
Although I recognise many people have no interest in exploring non-monogamy, as a single, 40-something woman I wasn’t hurting anyone. I practised safe sex and was focused on pleasure rather than emotional connection at that time.
I always tell single women, if you’re going to explore your sexuality, your 40s are the best time to do it because you have the benefit of emotional maturity, sex appeal and stamina.
Now, nearly two decades on, it’s time to update my story. My sons, who are in their 30s, not only give their blessing but have acknowledged me as a trailblazer.
I want other women in midlife and beyond to know that age really doesn’t have to stop them enjoying fantastic sex, and that even the most daunting setbacks can become opportunities.
At the time I wrote my book, I thought my sexual appetites would last for ever. I remember having lunch with Jenni Murray (now a Femail columnist) when she was interested in interviewing me about the book for Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour, where she was lead presenter.
I was 46 – and at the end of our chat she smiled and said, ‘I can’t wait to see if you’re still like this after the menopause . . .’ to which I replied, nonchalantly, ‘Of course I will be.’
How wrong I was. Because, as I discovered, when you enter your 50s your priorities – and body – can change dramatically. My 50th birthday party was a private swinging party at a friend’s fancy apartment in London’s Docklands.
I remember looking out at the gorgeous view from the windows, and then at all the people having sex around me, and thinking ‘God, I’m so over this.’
For the first time, I had no desire to join in and felt jaded.
Two weeks later, I met Oliver, 16 years my junior. Our relationship was very conventional, going for drinks and dinner before we eventually slept together.
We gelled over our mutual love of the arts, theatre, writing and movies. For a couple of years it was wonderful – and monogamous.
He wasn’t interested in opening up our relationship, and neither was I any longer.
Then menopause truly hit me, bringing with it all sorts of challenges I never saw coming.
Hot flushes, vaginal dryness, a dwindling sex drive and an expanding waistline derailed my sex life and my confidence.
I genuinely grieved the loss of my libido and wondered whether I would ever feel sexy again.
By 53, my relationship with Oliver was struggling. I’d be lying in bed with him, feeling menopausal, sweat dripping down my back, which was so unattractive.
For the first time, I felt unable to be sexual because I was dealing with all these hormonal symptoms.
As he was so much younger, he struggled to understand, although he assured me he still found me attractive. In the end, my struggle with menopause led to our split after four years together, although we remain platonic friends.
Initially, I thought my sexual days were over, a confusing blow which was amplified by the fact society teaches us older women should, in essence, accept this as their lot.
But as time went on and my symptoms eased, I began to wonder if the turmoil I’d experienced was an opportunity to leave my wild years behind – and redefine what I really wanted.
I took a course in massage, learning how to explore sensual touch, one-on-one. I realised that intimacy didn’t have to revolve solely around penetrative sex.
In 2018, I met a kind and lovely man, John, and we settled into a monogamous relationship. We had fun sexually and I enjoyed his company. But as my libido slowly came back, I started to feel I wasn’t getting the erotic charge I longed for.
I didn’t act on my desire for more because I cared about him, so kept my feelings to myself.
Then tragically, in 2022, John was diagnosed with cancer and he died that June. Inevitably, the sadness of his death led me to rethink my life and what I wanted from the next decade.
I decided to seize these years as an opportunity for reinvention – to better understand how I’d changed since menopause, and to help other women navigate this challenging period.
As part of that effort, I started a podcast called Sex Advice for Seniors, with a friend called Peter, who is also in his 60s.
The podcast took off on the back of the Emma Thompson film, Good Luck To You, Leo Grande, about a woman who’s never had an orgasm and hires a sex worker to put that right. I now have more than 150,000 followers on TikTok, many of them married women in their 60s with unexceptional sex lives, who come to me for real-life intimacy advice.
When Peter expressed an interest in swinging (we talk about anything and everything honestly on the podcast) I took him to a small, private party. It was my first foray into that world since my 50th birthday. This time around, I thought of myself more as a tour guide than an active participant. In fact, the most dramatic part of the evening came when I missed a step in the hotel room where the gathering was, sending a wine glass crashing to the floor.
Since then, I’ve slowly found my sexual mojo again. I think I’ll always enjoy the thrill of a new sexual experience. But even though I’ve dipped back into swinging occasionally, I’m no longer the life and soul of the party – and I’m happy that way.
At 63, I can confidently say that I still enjoy a satisfying sex life. I’m not looking for a soulmate and I certainly don’t want to be someone’s nursemaid, but I’m happy with a sexual partner – and sometimes partners – I find attractive and who understands how to please me.
Many women my age are discovering that love and sex can take on new, exciting forms according to our desires, whether that means trying something new with a husband of many years, or seeking sexual experiences without the pressure of long-term commitment.
In my current, casual relationship with a man a similar age, we explore pleasure with each other – and sometimes with others too. Like me, he isn’t seeking a full-time relationship, and these days I turn to friends if I want emotional support.
Through my podcast and social media platforms, I regularly hear from women who say their libido has vanished or who believe they are no longer attractive. They feel disconnected and frustrated. I remind them it’s possible to feel sexy and desirable, even when faced with the challenges of ageing.
How? Taking care of myself has become paramount. I work out several times a week with a personal trainer, which helps me to feel sexy and empowered. I’m also a firm believer in gorgeous lingerie – it doesn’t need to be skimpy, but a beautiful silk or satin negligee will help to make you feel glamorous.
Most important, carve out a few hours when you can wear such things – on a date with your partner at a weekend, for example. Hotels can be thrilling, but you can equally create a sensual atmosphere in your bedroom with candles and soft music. Remember, sex in later life isn’t a race, so take it slowly and perhaps start by giving your partner a massage.
Men of a similar age will also be slower off the blocks than they once were – you both need to understand each other’s changed needs and capabilities, so talk honestly about how you feel.
If your love life with a long-term partner has become stale, but you’re feeling brave, then consider each making a list of all the things you might enjoy exploring in the bedroom – as well as anything you definitely don’t want to do.
Then compare lists, and see if there are any items you could tick off together.
It’s a less pressured way to discover new pleasures you could share, from a sensual massage to tantra or even something like bondage.
There’s a persistent myth that such practices only really please men – but I guarantee that many women find exploring these desires gives their marriage and libido a new lease of life.
The popular narrative suggests our sexual appetites should diminish along with our youthful glow. It’s time to embrace the idea that sexuality can flourish with age.
The two biggest complaints I hear from women my age are that they have no libido and suffer vaginal dryness.
Crucially, the third is that they’re brushed off by their doctor when they ask for help, with words along the lines of, ‘You’re in your 60s, what do you expect?’ Keep banging on their door, ladies, until they sit up and take notice.
But the onus isn’t all on women – men need to have more awareness of our changing needs, too.
A year ago, I went on a date with a guy who revealed he was married, but his wife was menopausal and had given him permission to see other women because she wasn’t feeling sexy.
He had the audacity to say he wasn’t feeling a spark with her any more.
Our ‘date’ ended up with me giving him a lesson in how to step up and make her feel sexy again. I explained to him how the way we become aroused changes at this age, and that he and his wife both need to make more of an effort to be sexual.
That could mean putting it in the diary once a week, watching a sexy movie together, or giving each other a lovely massage. Even a loving hug that lasts a little longer can help to switch on your libido.
So, Jenni Murray, if you’re reading this, it turns out you were right about the menopause. It did extinguish my desire . . . for a while. But I’ve learned how to reinvent myself, and I want all women to know that they can too.
- Find Suzanne on TikTok at @sexadviceforseniors or her podcast of the same name.
- As told to Sadie Nicholas.
