Reflecting on my past, I remember a brief experience with casual sex in my 20s. There was a guy I thought I liked, or maybe I just convinced myself of that. He was set to leave for California soon, and I sensed he was just in it for fun. So was I, at least that’s what I told him.
Truthfully, those late-night calls from him left me feeling empty. Despite his charm, the intimacy was lacking, and I often questioned why I was engaging with someone who treated me like an afterthought and never made me feel desired. He didn’t even acknowledge my fancy lingerie.
Perhaps loneliness drove me. I hoped that if I showed him my worth, he would appreciate me more, introduce me to his friends, and then, maybe, the pleasure would follow. Spoiler alert: it never did.
Once he moved away, I promised myself to never repeat that mistake. The emotional void was too painful, and I craved a deeper connection. I envisioned a husband, a father for my future kids, and knew I needed to focus on that goal rather than waste time with a guy who didn’t care about my feelings.
Fast forward nearly 25 years, and I met someone special who shared my values. However, after two decades of marriage, we drifted apart, and now I find myself navigating divorce. Surprisingly, my perspective on casual encounters has shifted dramatically.
These days, my life revolves around work, managing my household, and juggling my three kids’ busy schedules. The last thing I want is to get involved with someone’s social circle. I’m not interested in midnight cuddles; I relish the freedom to wake up and stretch out across my bed, embracing my morning routine.
I no longer worry about hurting someone’s feelings or dealing with jealousy over my lunch dates with my ex. And guess what? I buy my sexy underwear for myself because it empowers me, and I don’t need validation from anyone else.
For the first time, I genuinely want casual, no-strings-attached sex. This realization dawned a few months after my husband moved out. Although I felt fulfilled in many aspects, I craved physical intimacy. My trusty vibrator just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
I wanted to put on something enticing, enjoy a dinner date, and then lose myself in passion for a few hours, only to part ways afterward. I sleep much better with the bed to myself and prefer to spend my child-free time with my sisters or friends.
I’m not looking for a relationship; I’m seeking enjoyment, and that’s precisely what I’m experiencing. It’s liberating to embrace my desires openly. I’m not engaging with multiple partners—just one, since that’s all I can manage—but it’s incredibly satisfying, and I feel no shame in it.
Women deserve the right to enjoy sex without attachments if that’s what they desire. Taking control of my sexual life is empowering, and I relish the freedom to choose what I do with my body.
Gone are the days of emotional turmoil and heartbreak from my 20s. Now, as a 40-something single mom, I prioritize great sex, pleasure, and light-hearted conversation. And it feels absolutely glorious.
For more insights on navigating parenthood and intimacy, check out this blog post about artificial insemination kits or delve into the expert opinions from Dr. Emily Harper on infertility. Additionally, if you’re interested in further understanding home insemination, this resource from the Genetics and IVF Institute is highly informative.
In summary, being a divorced woman in my 40s has opened up new avenues for embracing casual relationships. I’m now prioritizing my own needs and desires, focusing on fulfilling physical connections without the complications of emotional entanglements.