A 31-year-old woman’s sex diary: ‘What starts with a little fondle turns into me yelling in pleasure’

Week 1
Some might find it a little sad that my first entry in this sex diary is a solo session given I’m “a married woman” (which sounds dirty in and of itself), but the fact is I’ve had a much stronger sex drive than my husband of late (according to our therapist, this is highly unusual, and it’s often the other way around). So, as himself snoozes off a late Friday night, I decide to give myself a little Saturday-morning treat.

For the job, I use my vibrator (I only bought my first one ever in recent months — it initially didn’t seem right, being in a long-term relationship, but my other half is aware that I have one and accepts that it’s something I need on occasion). The vibrator is nothing too impressive in size, texture or even colour (pink — but not offensive highlighter pink), but it gets the job done. According to the box, its name is Randolph. I suppose the reason for that is you can call it Randy, if you feel so inclined.

Week 2
After a dry weekend other than that masturbatory occasion, what follows is a busy working week for both my husband and I, accompanied by some bickering due to stress, so that is not conducive to lots of sex. But we make up for it with some reliable missionary style, a BJ, and hand job (him to me) that weekend. A couple of orgasms in the space of two nights ain’t bad.

Also, I have a first for sex — I cry. I actually hide it from my husband because I’m so embarrassed, and say it is just sweat. After such a stressful week, I think the crying is related to release and relief more than anything. If it happens again, I probably will have to tell him and provide reassurance that it isn’t because anything is hurting. Quite the opposite.

Later in the week, I get my period. I’m crampy and grumpy and get no sex for a few days so that adds to the bad mood. My husband doesn’t do period sex, in spite of it being a monthly occurrence for our decade-long relationship. But I’ve cut off anal for the past number of years, so we’ve both set our boundaries and there’s mutual respect (and sexual frustration) there.

Week 3
So after my period ends, I’m working late all that weekend, so time-wise and energy-wise, the stars just aren’t aligning for sex. I make an appointment with Randy late on Sunday night (as much to help me to sleep and get my body clock back on track as anything else), which I then feel bad about because, first thing Monday morning, my husband is up and raring for action. I don’t orgasm because it has only been a few hours since last getting off. But hey, I’m not going to say no to a morning session to kick off a new week.

My husband and I both have a rare mid-week morning off. So the night before, we watch a movie and have a cheeky bottle of wine before the deed. I’m not sure that I entirely enjoy sex when drinking, to be honest. While we are mutually more up for it as defences come down, I always find it much more difficult to orgasm (a common enough phenomenon when it comes to drinking, so they say) and while I’m always happy enough to get to have sex anyway, I’m ultimately left dissatisfied with the night’s experience. I know I’m a bit spoiled for it.

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Apparently, the stats on women who can’t orgasm at all are crazy high, so I’m very fortunate that I can climax from all kinds of sex, including penetrative. But I crave the ‘Big O’ on a regular basis, and without it, I’m just left a bit sad and irritable.

Week 4
Saturday morning comes again, in every sense of the word. It gets me thinking about the nature of the routine and how, when you’ve had the same sexual partner for years, many things become the same, and yet there’s always something a little different and pleasure in discovering the new.

Insecurities and fears never fully go away as you ask yourself questions like, “Do I still look good naked?”, “What if I can’t perform?” or “What if I do something my partner doesn’t like and takes us out of the mood?” There can still be missteps, taking it too fast or too slow, and yet with all those factors seemingly working against you, when you get yourself out of your head and into your body, more often than not, you get exactly what you need.

I find sex therapeutic that way. It brings me back to my body when I get overly caught up in the BS of the world. As for finding something new, I’m still amazed that just a slight adjustment, in this case a minor angling of the hips, moves sex from good to gooooood.

Thank God we have sex tonight because I really need it. Last night we tried fingering because I was in the mood and he wasn’t, but it just wasn’t working, and I know blue balls is not a thing, but that’s what it felt like afterwards. In any case, tonight starts with him being very literally up for it, and what starts with a little fondle here and there turns into me flat on the bed T-square and yelling in pleasure just moments after his yelling.

*Names have been changed