I embarked on an affair during my perimenopause – and it’s probably the reason that I am still married Anxiety at work, trouble sleeping and shorter gaps between periods. At 44, I recognised all the tell-tale signs of perimenopause, those hormonally erratic years proceeding what my mother still insists on referring to (in a lowered tone) as “The Change”. A flare-up of acne , increased sweating, a filthy temper, and undeservedly awful hangovers – I’d read all about these happening, and here they indeed were.
Yet no one had forewarned me about the dramatic change in sex drive I experienced. My desire levels – having previously been a once-a-week is plenty sort of wife (or, frankly, once-a-fortnight) – suddenly resembled that of an indefatigable teenage boy. And I’m sorry to say that my desperately increased new sex drive was not directed at Aryan, my husband of eight years.
Instead, to fulfil my urges, I purposefully sought out sex with a stranger. You’d be quite reasonable to think that makes me sound like an appalling human being, but I don’t regret a second of my nine-month affair. In fact, it’s probably the reason I’m still married.
Happily so. Initially, my head was turned by the best-looking father at the school gates, with his glamorous job in film. While in bed with Aryan – having the half-arsed, comforting, Sunday morning kind of sex that had become routine – I often imagined I was with Hot Dad instead.
A harmless fantasy surely never hurt.