I had casual sex once in my 20s with a guy I liked. Or maybe I just talked myself into liking him. He was moving to California in a few weeks, and I could tell he was just having fun. So was I … or at least that’s what I told him.
Honestly, I didn’t like the way his booty calls and knocks on my door at one o’clock in the morning after a night out with his friends made me feel, but I kept giving in. He was nice and all, but the sex was really bad, and I constantly asked myself why I was doing something so intimate with a guy who treated me as an afterthought and never gave me an orgasm. He didn’t even notice my sexy lacy underwear.
Maybe it was because I was lonely. Maybe it was because I wanted someone to appreciate my new underwear, but it was probably because I secretly hoped I would change his mind, make him see how amazing I was, introduce me to his friends, and then perhaps the mind-blowing orgasms would come.
Spoiler alert: They never did.
After he moved away, I told myself I would never do that again. I didn’t like the way I felt afterward, and I wasn’t feeling emotionally fulfilled. I wanted to find a husband, a father for my children, someone to share a home with, and I needed to create space for that. It wasn’t going to happen by spending time with a fuck boy who didn’t care if I got mine and never wanted me to meet his friends.
Fast-forward almost 25 years; I met my husband, a man who respected me and wanted the same things I did, but after 20 years of marriage, we fell out of love.
So now I am going through a divorce, and let’s just say my attitude and appetite for a casual fling has changed, a lot. These days I am so busy keeping up with work, my house, and my three kids’ schedules that I don’t want to be introduced to anyone’s friends. I have enough friends, thank you.
I don’t want to have a man spend the night and cuddle. I like to wake up, sprawl out on my bed, and dive into my morning routine.
I don’t want to worry about whether I am hurting a man’s feelings because I can’t make it to a gathering with him. I would rather be home snuggling with my three kids on the sofa.
I don’t want to hear about how my weekly lunch meeting with my ex makes him uncomfortable. I don’t care if he noticed my underwear. I buy that shit for me — I like to look at myself in the mirror wearing black lace underwear because it makes me feel empowered, and I don’t need anyone else’s approval these days.
For the first time in my life, I legitimately want to have no-strings-attached, casual sex. It is something that manifested a few months after my husband moved out. I was feeling very happy and fulfilled, but I was missing something — hot sex. I wanted to be touched and caressed and moan in someone’s ear. It had been way too long, and I needed it. My vibrating boyfriend was no longer cutting it, if you know what I mean.
I wanted to put on my sexy underwear, go to dinner, then take him home and lose myself in him for a few hours, and then say goodbye. I sleep so much better when I have the bed to myself, and I would prefer to spend my kid-free time with my sisters or my friends.
I’m not looking to date anyone. I’m looking to score.
And that is what I am doing. For the first time in my life, I can admit I want this and only this. I can have fantastic sex, and that fulfills me right now. I am clear about my intentions. I am certainly not sleeping with tons of men — just one, it’s all I have time for — but it is absolutely fulfilling, with no shame.
Women should be able to have sex with no strings attached if that’s what they want. It is empowering to take charge of your sex life and do what you want with your body on your terms.
I had time for head games and heartbreak in my 20s, but now I’m a single mom in her 40s who only has time for some good sex, orgasms, light conversation, and nothing else. And it is fucking glorious.