In my (60F) former life, in my 20s, long before I was married with kids, I shared a flat with my friend and colleague Jacqui. I had a couple of long relationships before I turned 30, but in between I’d go months without sex although I’d think about it *a lot* (I still do, which explains why I’m here). I was a bit shy, I lacked confidence sexually and wouldn’t really approach men, and I think my demeanour was such that even if men did approach me, it would often lead nowhere. However, something changed in me after one particular evening when I was about 28 years old. This is what happened.
In the run up to Christmas, Jacqui and I joined several co-workers on a night out, drinking and dancing into the early hours, after which 15 or so people came back to our flat. Throughout the evening Jacqui had been flirting with a guy she’d had designs on for months, and now we were home, without anybody noticing they’d disappeared off to her bedroom. As the party wound down, most people had gone home until there was just one guy left, a guy called Rob, a friend of a colleague and not somebody I’d met before that evening, who lived out of town. He was really nice and very handsome. I knew he was a long way from home, so when I said I was going to bed I suggested he could sleep on the sofa. He was glad of the offer, so I found some bedding for him, said goodnight and went to my room.