I feel sexy and young, but all my man wants is a cuddle
DEAR BEL, MY PARTNER and I have been together for 11 years. We had a very loving, physical relationship full of laughter and happiness.
Life-changing illness hit us hard, but he recovered with stoic determination and humour and I was touched by his courage.
My problem is, I love him, but I’m not ready to feel like an old person!
I’m 67, youngish-looking, interested in fashion and make-up, slim and used to be considered attractive.
We decided to move to the countryside for a new start: peace, quiet and quality of life.
It was hard for me to leave family and friends, but I felt I needed a break. We enjoyed our new life, but it no longer included a physical relationship, as his medication had caused a complete loss of libido.
I found this so difficult. All the fun has disappeared, all the passion. We are just like brother and sister.
He will give me a cuddle and a kiss with no sexual element and he gets upset if I try to discuss it. He thinks I should just accept it.
We had counselling after hospital, but he gave up after one session. I continued for six months. Also, I do almost everything on my own. He’s contented at home and in the garden.
I like walking, dancing, still feel young and want to make the most of my life. I miss my old friends and family, but he’s adamant he won’t move back. He loves our new home — and it is lovely.
I try to see my children as often as I can, but feel guilty about leaving him. He says he’d do anything for me, but clearly won’t.
I feel unattractive — as if just marking time until I die. I do voluntary work and try so hard to keep my spirits up.
I know he loves me, but our life consists of shopping, cooking, TV and gardening.
Am I expecting too much? I feel like a young person in an old age pensioner’s life. KAYE
The question posed here, ‘Am I expecting too much?’ put me in mind of that quotation by the 19th- century American writer, henry David Thoreau: ‘Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.’
I used to have it up on my wall, but took it down a few years ago. Why? Because writing this column convinced me that dreams can do damage.
Yes, the freewheeling romanticism of Thoreau’s words is appealing — especially when you are young. Of course, aspirations are good, but not if unrealistic. The trouble is, nagging discontentment can be so corrosive — which is why (now I’m older and wiser) I am in favour of making the most of the life that you have.
What you rarely see quoted is Thoreau’s next sentence: ‘ As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.’ That part is much less obvious. Is living simply truly going in ‘the direction of your dreams’? I suspect many people would find a contradiction there — including you, Kaye.
You and your husband decided on ‘peace, quiet and quality of life’ — yet now you are chafing at what you see as the dullness of this existence.
It so happens that the country life you complain of just about sums up the way my husband and I love to spend our time — and millions of others would
think it sounds perfect. Which fact will be no consolation to you, but just worth thinking about.
The lack of physical affection is, of course, at the heart of your discontentment — and must surely fuel the more general sense of loneliness. I’m wondering whether reigniting a sex life would serve to compensate for not sharing activities, or whether the latter might ultimately prove to be more important as you grow older.
It must have been acutely shocking and humiliating for your partner to realise that because of his necessary ( and ongoing) medications his libido had gone. No wonder he doesn’t want to discuss it: he sees no way out, feels your disappointment acutely and closes down the conversation.
You explain ( in your longer email) that if you try to touch him sexually, he makes a joke of it. I have to be honest and say I don’t blame the poor man.
If I suggest the only alternative to accepting the situation (as he wishes you would) is to have an affair or move back to town and end the marriage, then you might ask yourself how important the lack of sex really is.
Does a life ‘full of laughter and happiness’ have to come to an end because a man can no longer perform? If so, that’s sad.
It surprises me when women need to be desired by a man in order to ‘feel attractive’. What’s to stop you getting a new hairstyle, make-up and new clothes, just for yourself? But that aside, I entirely sympathise with your wish to have fun together.
Do you have friends to stay? Do you put on old tracks and dance in the kitchen? Honestly, that can lift your spirits like nothing else.
If he loves the garden, have you shared in suggesting replanting?
You see, it worries me you’re complaining about all aspects of your life with this ‘wonderful man’ — allowing unhappiness to blind you to ways it could be improved. Imagine if his illness had ended his life . . . where would you be?
It could be that Thoreau’s ‘laws of the universe’ are leading you towards an understanding that the life fate has bestowed is blessed in ways it is your quest to discover.