I’m Having The Best Sex Of My Life—In My 40s

Sex & The City may have lulled many women in the early 2000s into a false hope that we were entering a new era of sexual freedom and expression, but for the people-pleasing millennials like me—especially those of us that didn’t fit into a heteronormative Carrie Bradshaw-shaped box—sex was more about performance than pleasure. 

Set the stage with perfect lighting, silky sheets and lacy lingerie. Begin a strict regimen of lotions, makeup, hair coifing and full-body hair removal. If we wanted to please our partner, we had to put in maximum effort, whether we received the same in return or not. 

This was a pattern I followed for nearly 20 years until, as my 40th birthday rapidly approached, I found myself less and less inclined to prioritize everyone else’s pleasure over my own. 

It started when I ended my marriage of 15 years. Even though we presented as happy and thriving in our polyamorous relationship, I was secretly more alone than ever. When we’d initially decided to open our marriage, eight years into the relationship, I’d convinced myself it was for both our benefits: it would serve to curb his infidelity, and I could explore my repressed queerness. 

I was grateful to finally be able to act on the confusing feelings I’d been pushing down since I was a teenager, exploring both romantic and physical relationships with women and non-binary folks. But it didn’t take long to see that I had only been allowed to swap one desire for another, as requests for my own husband’s affection were rebuffed more often than not. Even though a big part of me was finally feeling fulfilled, I struggled with the instinct to undo it all and contort back into someone he would choose over other partners. But as much as I wanted to be loved and desired, I wanted it to be for who I was and who I was becoming, not who he—or anyone—wanted me to be.

The divorce and entering my 40s became a bridge between what I had and what I wanted for my life. It allowed me to see my sex life differently—not as something to keep someone else satiated, but as a way to fall back in love with my beautifully aging body, stand proudly in my queerness and finally explore guilt-free pleasure. 

To do this required some serious self-reflection. I needed to dismantle many of the toxic beliefs I held around sexuality. With time, I shrugged off the pressure to maintain a submissive sex kitten persona, especially when I was overwhelmed with work or parenting. Instead, I allowed myself to lean into what made me feel the sexiest, not through that of the male gaze but my own. That meant presenting as feminine and soft some days, dominant and spicy on others, or some androgynous mix of the two. 

And thankfully, I didn’t have to do it on my own. 

When I would lay in bed with Jake, my first real relationship after the divorce, and he would trail kisses up and down my naked body, it felt incredible. But the first few times that he lingered near my belly—the soft fold of skin, a sagging souvenir from carrying my sons—I would instinctively reach to cover it. Without hesitation he would continue his kisses, dodging my hand or the sheet and spend extra attention on my belly. It was such a simple gesture, but seeing my body adored in a way I’d never imagined it changed my own perception of its beauty.

Spontaneous and spicy rendezvous with queer individuals who were incredibly secure in their identities—Kristin, a pint-sized rainbow-haired lesbian, and Nate, the non-binary trans-masculine dream boat, for example—encouraged me to shed the hypersexualized femme uniform that I was no longer comfortable in. Being desired for my confidence rather than a costume affected how I showed up in the bedroom. And on the kitchen counters, or in the shower, or really anywhere with enough privacy and cushioning. 

All of these experiences helped me realize that, while it was okay to find pleasure in pleasing others, it was equally okay to be selfish when it came to my sex life. Having confidence that I’m worth being desired for who I am and prioritizing my own needs between the sheets has helped my 40s quickly become my best sex era—so far. 

Read more: How these women are having the best sex of their lives in their 50s, in their 60s and in their 70s.